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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 

in  2009  witii  funding  from 

University  of  Nortin  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


.http://www.archive.org/details/tomjoetwofarmerbOOcoll 


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TOM  Mb  joe. 


TWO  FARMER  BOYS  IN  WAR  AND 
PEACE  AND  LOVE. 


A  LOUISIANA  MEMORY, 


RICHMOND,  VA.: 

EVERETT  WADDEY,  PUBLISHER  AND  PRINTER. 

1890. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1890.  by 

CLARENCE  B.  COLLINS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  ol  Congress,  at  Washingtoa 


PREFACE. 


HE  following  little  story,  as  told  by  one  who  witnessed 
many  of  its  scenes  and  incidents,  will  appeal  to  the  hearts  of 
thousands  who  saw  the  great  drama  of  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago.  To  the  naiddle-aged  and  the  old  of  our  dear  Southland  it 
will  bring  back  that  happy  period  when  our  country  lived  its 
golden  age — the  glorioua  summer  day  that  closed  in  storm  and 
darkness  ;  to  the  young  it  tells  how  their  ancestors  lived  and 
Wed  and  died  ;  to  those  who  loved  and  still  love  the  "Lost 
Cause,"  it  will  recall  the  tenderest  memories  of  a  lifetime,  and 
to  those  who  loved  it  not,  the  story  tells  how  we  loved  it.  The 
love  Judge  Mabry  bore  for  the  Union  had  its  counterpart  all 
over  the  South,  and  it  lasted  to  his  dying  day,  but  he  loved 
better  Vhe  autonomy  of  States.  With  him  local  pride  was 
above  and  beyond  national  greatness.  His  sons  were  repre- 
sentative boys  of  the  heroic  age  of  our  country,  of  such  stuff 
as  made  that  great  struggle  immortal,  and  made  possible  a 
glorious  "New  South."  They  were  farmer  boys,  proud  of 
their  occupation,  and  glorying  in  their  identity  with  the  class 
who  ruled  America  during  seventy  progressive  years.  Many 
of  the  incidents  are  literally  true,  and  all  are  founded  upon 
facts  in  the  lives  of  our  two  boys.  This  story  is  told  that  our 
young  people  of  to-day  may  not  be  ignorant  of  the  more  glori- 
ous "  Old  South." 


602779 


INDEX. 


Chapter.  Page. 

L— A  Great  Event 7 

II.— The  First  River  Journey 12 

III.— Belhaven— and  the  First  Squirrel 18 

IV.— Boy  Heaven 24 

v.— An  Original  Union  Man 31 

VI.— They  Marched  Away  Down  the  Village  Street 42 

VII.-The  Dead  Roll  of  Shiloh 52 

VIII.— Goodnight 59 

IX.— How  the  Old  Home  Disappeared 7G 

X.— Christmas,  1864 e^ 

XI.— John  Barton  and  Jennie 102 

XII.— Goodnight  Captures  Richmond 117 

XIII.— Tom's  Battery 139 

XIV.— "Forgive Me,  Jedge— I've  Come  Back  Alone!" 165 

X■'^— Madge 176 

XVI.— "There  Never  wussech  a  Gal  as  Susan." 187 

XVII.— Tom  the  Ploughman  and  Burns  the  Poet 204 

XVIIL— "NowLetMeRest.'^ 215 

XIX.— "God  Pity  them  Both  and  Pity  us  All." 229 

XX.— Tom's  Last  River  Journey 248 


TOM  AND  JOE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A    OB  EAT   EVENT. 


UPON  one  of  the  lofty  hills  in  the  western  suburb 
of  Mississippi's  capital  city  stood,  many  years 
ago,  a  square  brick  residence  of  comfortable 
proportions  and  design,  but  without  any  especial 
architectural  attractiveness.  It  was  a  genuine,  old- 
fashioned  Southern  home,  surrounded  by  a  charm- 
ing grove  of  natural  forest,  where  the  broad-leafed 
hickory  and  mighty  oak  tempered  the  summer  heat 
and  flamed  out  in  gold  and  scarlet  when  the  frosts  and 
winds  of  autumn  came  to  ripen  the  nuts  or  carpet  the 
earth  with  leaves.  In  rear  and  away  down  the  sunny 
slope  towards  the  river  stretched  garden  and  orchard 
famous  for  the  good  things  so  delightful  to  our  human 
tastes,  while  in  one  corner  of  the  grove  nestled  a  little 
lake,  where  happy  children  sailed  their  toy  boats  on 
pleasant  afternoons  and  filled  the  air  with  music  of 
their  glad  3"oung  voices. 

(7) 


8  TOM   AND   JOE. 

Here  lived  a  man  much  loved  and  honored  by  the 
people ;  a  man  whose  public  career  was  as  unblemished 
as  his  private  character,  which  was  severe  in  its  purity. 

In  such  a  home  Tom  awoke  one  morning  and  began 
with  clenched  fists  to  fight  the  battle  of  life.  The  good 
man  who  lived  there  was  Tom's  father,  and  from  the 
fact  that  Tom  was  the  fifth  step  in  the  juvenile  stair- 
way, we  are  not  justified  in  believing  that  there  was 
any  great  overflow  of  parental  joy  on  that  occasion,  but 
rather  a  sigh  of  relief  that  he  was  not  *'  twins,"  or  even 
a  girl. 

Some  persons  object  to  girls  in  the  family,  with  the 
plea  that  they  are  more  expensive  and  not  so  useful 
as  boys.  For  the  same  coarse  reason  they  banish  roses 
and  lilies  from  the  garden.  Our  hero's  after-life  failed 
to  develop  the  slightest  cause  for  classing  him  among 
such  persons;  on  the  contrary,  he  early  developed  a 
fondness  for  the  other  sex  that  did  more  honor  to  his 
heart  than  to  his  judgment,  and  laid  the  foundation 
for  many  a  future  heartache.  Doubtless  he  began  by 
loving  his  mother,  but  that  sweet  woman  faded  away 
soon  after  his  birth,  leaving  only  a  tender  memory  for 
his  love,  and  he  was  bereft  of  that  influence  to  which 
so  many  of  the  great  ones  of  earth  attribute  their 
success. 

We  have  stated  that  Tom  was  number  five.  There 
were  three  girls,  and  then  there  was  Joe.  Ah !  yes, 
there  was  Joe.  When  Tom  aw^oke  he  found  Joe  there 
waiting  for  him;  had  been  waiting  nearly  five  years, 
so  now  he  was  satisfied,  and  in  great  glee  he  raced  out 


§1 


A  GREAT  EVENT.  9 

to  the  stable  to  tell  old  Don  Pedro,  the  family  horse, 
and  to  the  kennel  behind  the  chicken-house,  where 
Blucher,  the  veteran  watch-dog,  had  of  late  years  done 
most  of  his  watching.  Both  those  faithful  animals  tes- 
tified their  joy  at  the  news  in  a  manner  peculiar  to 
such  creatures,  and  fell  to  fighting  the  fly  or  the  flea 
with  renewed  activity. 

The  local  newspaper  recorded  the  arrival  of  a  new 
boy  at  Judge  Mabry*s  in  the  usual  witty  style  of  such 
announcements,  never  thinking  that  it  was  toying  with 
the  most  sacred  and  solemn  event  of  family  life.  Rela- 
tives, both  distant  and  at  a  distance,  were  duly  noti- 
fied, but  the  innocent  hope  that  silver-spoons,  hobby- 
horses, cradles,  or  other  customary  gifts  would  follow 
this  notification  was  never  realized,  and  there  comes 
down  to  us  a  dim  tradition  that  the  baby  was  rocked 
in  the  rounding  top  of  an  ancient  hair-trunk.  If  there 
were  any  other  demonstrations  at  the  time  history 
fails  to  record  them,  and  only  the  solemn  fact  remains 
that  a  boy,  a  baby  boy,  an  embryo  man,  full  of  life  and 
prepared  for  a  large  average  of  fun  and  tears,  had  come 
with  a  fixed  purpose  to  remain  as  long  as  possible,  and 
get  the  most  good  out  of  life. 

During  the  firsi  four  years  of  life  our  little  Tom  did 
nothing  remarkable.  He  had  measles  and  whooping- 
cough  just  as  other  boys,  and  he  fell  into  the  river  one 
day  to  be  fished  out  more  than  half  dead.  He  early 
displayed  an  alarming  propensity  to  play  out  in  the 
street  and  get  run  over  by  passing  carriages.  With 
that  fatality  attached  to  chubby  juveniles  he  always 


10  TOM   AND   JOE. 

stubbed  bis  toe  at  tbe  wrong  time,  and  never  ran  from 
danger  witbout  falling  in  its  patbway.  In  tbeir  wan- 
derings about  tbe  streets  of  tbe  city  bis  companions 
often  found  stray  dimes,  or  pocket-knives,  but  Tom 
never  did.  Joe  was  a  lucky  boy.  He  always  fell  on  bis 
feet,  and  was  a  leader  among  tbe  West  End  boys,  coup- 
ling a  conscientious  care  witb  absolute  fearlessness. 

It  was  rare  sport  for  tbe  boys  in  those  good  old  days 
at  Jackson  to  guy  tbe  drivers  and  tbrow  clods  of  dirt 
at  tbe  two-borse  stages,  but  when  one  thundered  by  in 
all  tbe  glory  of  four  steeds,  and  tbe  tra-let-la-la  of  tbe 
bugles,  they  all  stood  in  open-mouthed  awe  and  each 
one  mentally  vowed  that  one  day  he  would  drive  a 
four-horse  stage.  Few  boys  of  thirty  years  ago  but 
were  guilty  of  such  ambition  which  eventually  they 
were  glad  to  "fling  away,"  and  admire  the  dashing 
brakesman  with  brass  buttons,  braided  cap,  and  impu- 
dent manner,  as  he  tenderly  assists  the  pretty  girls  off 
tlie  train  and  allows  the  old  lady  with  a  dozen  bundles 
to  fall  off  if  she  likes. 

Tom  doubtless  lived  very  happily  during  those  four 
years.  He  fared  well,  grew  amazingly,  and  in  common 
witb  most  boys  of  his  day  and  age  was  not  too  much  ham- 
pered by  the  conventionalities  of  dress.  In  fact,  a  sin- 
gle loose  garment,  none  too  long,  gave  free  play  to  the 
bounding  activity  of  the  boy,  and  causes  him  after 
thirty  long  years  to  sigh  for  bis  old-time  freedom. 

It  is  a  pity  that  children  are  so  much  dressed  now- 
a-days.  Many  of  them  never  know  the  freedom  and 
unfettered  joys  of  childhood ;  they  are  little  old  men 


A  GREAT  EVENT.  11 

and  women  when  they  ought  to  be  throwing  mud  at  a 
two-horse  stage.  We  find  the  little  things  crowding 
the  places  of  amusement,  balls,  matinees  and  card  par- 
ties without  end,  until  we  wonder  what  will  be  the  effect 
upon  the  next  generation.  Do  we  forget  that  those 
children  are  to  be  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  our  race? 

Tom  ought  to  be  glad  that  he  lived  in  the  da^^s  of 
stage  coaches  and  single  garments. 

"Well,  the  four  years  passed  and  our  little  man  was 
four  years  wiser.  He  had  learned  many  things  that 
children  ought  to  know,  and  the  reverse;  he  had  spent 
two  seasons  over  the  river  at  the  farm  and  knew  how 
to  chase  rabbits,  find  hen  nests  and  dig  worms  for  bait. 
He  could  do  anything  that  a  four-year-old  was  able  to  do, 
and  he  had  learned  that  in  all  well-regulated  fami- 
lies there  was  kept  "  a  rod  in  pickle  "  for  unruly  boys. 
Pie  w^as  the  strong  impersonation  of  youth  and  health, 
with  a  blending  of  town  and  country  manners.  Joe 
was  his  tutor  and  leader  in  all  things  as  he  w^as  his 
champion  in  many  a  "rough-and-tumble"  of  later 
boyhood.  He  forced  upon  the  younger  brother  a  por- 
tion of  his  own  self-reliant  courage  and  made  good  im- 
pressions upon  the  boy  that  no  time  nor  trouble  could 
efface.  There  is  no  teacher  for  imitative  and  confiding 
youth  like, an  elder  brother,  and  happy  is  the  boy  or 
girl  whose  big  brother  is  a  worthy  and  affectionate 
model. 

Four  happy  and  progressive  years  for  Tom,  following 
Joe  about  the  streets  of  the  city  and  along  the  banks 
of  beautiful  Pearl  river,  then  came  a  great  change. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  FIRST  RIVER   JOURNEY, 

OOR  many  an  age  the  crowning  theme  of  poet's 
verse  and  orator's  most  glowing  period  has  been 
woman.  From  empress  to  peasant  her  praises  have 
been  sung.  As  lover,  wife,  mother,  and  widow,  her 
virtues  are  upon  every  manly  tongue.  Men  do  battle 
in  her  behalf.  They  lie,  steal,  and  kill  on  her  account, 
and  they  perform  deeds  of  heroism  or  sacrifice  in  her 
presence  that  make  them  famous  through  all  coming 
years.  In  every  stage  of  life  there  is  some  one  to  laud 
her,  but  when  she  takes  up  the  burdens  of  another  who 
has  fallen  in  the  struggle,  and  as  mother  to  children 
whose  baby  hands  never  pressed  her  bosom  until  the 
thrill  of  holy  motherhood  quivered  through  all  her 
soul  and  body,  then  her  ear  listens  vainly  for  words  of 
commendation.  Heroic,  self-sacrificing  stepmother  I 
When  Tom  reached  his  fifth  year  his  father  married 
again,  and  brought  into  his  family  a  woman  who  was 
henceforward  to  carry  all  the  vexatious  burdens  inci- 
dent to  the  life  of  a  stepmother,  but  she  was  a  noble 
woman  and  did  her  duty.  The  children  all  learned  to 
love  her,  and  as  they  never  purposely  vex  those  whom 
they  love,  her  life  was  a  happy  one.  Tom,  owing  to 
his  extreme  youth,  was  her  favorite,  yet  she  did  not 

(12) 


THE   FIRST   RIVER   JOURNEY.  13 

spoil  him  on  that  account.  She  was  a  stepmother  in 
name  but  a  mother  in  fact,  and  she  soon  taught  him 
that  there  was  a  mysterious  place  known  as  the  "far 
room,"  to  which  he  was  often  invited.  The  irrepressi- 
ble spirit  of  mischief  in  the  boy  had  to  be  warred 
against,  when  in  mere  wantonness  he  twisted  the  tails 
of  the  calves  to  hear  them  bleat,  tied  the  cat  with  a 
twine  to  old  Blucher,"or  cast  his  father's  boots  into  the 
well;  and  the  sounds  of  wailing  and  woe  that  came  up 
from  that  distant  room  told  of  penance  and  well- 
grounded  regrets. 

It  may  be  that  we  punish  too  much.  We  cannot,  in 
our  maturer  years  and  feelings,  countenance  many  of 
the  pranks  in  which  our  boyhood  gloried.  We  are 
elder  tyrants,  constantly  warring  against  the  exuber- 
ance of  childhood.  Grown-up  people  forget  sometimes 
that  a  healthy  boy  must  have  fun,  if  every  quadruped 
and  biped  on  the  farm  has  to  suffer. 

When  the  father  married  he  not  only  obtained  a 
good  wife,  but  sundry  servants,  plantations,  live-stock, 
etc.,  all  located  in  another  state,  and  all  worthy  of  at- 
tention ;  so  it  came  about  that  the  entire  family  left 
their  city  home  and  moved  far  away  to  a  cotton  planta- 
tion. Tom  and  the  girls  went  with  the  mother  by 
steamer,  while  Joe,  with  the  father  and  servants,  went 
overland  in  patriarchal  style,  driving  with  them  such 
flocks  and  herds  as  had  accumulated  on  the  little  farm 
where  our  boys  had  spent  the  two  summers  mentioned. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  little  wheezy,  rattling, 
ramshackle  train  that  ran  to  Vicksburg,  on  the  Mis- 


14  TOM    AND    JOE. 

sissippi  river,  and  while,  indeed,  it  was  one  of  the  sor- 
riest outfits  in  America,  it  was  an  immense  affair  in 
Tom's  estimation.  It  passed  every  day  in  front  of  the 
gate,  but  never,  in  his  most  reckless  moment,  did  he 
dare  throw  a  clod  of  dirt  at  it,  as  he  did  at  the  plebeian 
stage-coach,  for  vague  rumors  of  little  iron  squirts,  that 
could  throw  streams  of  hot  water  to  an  incredible  dis- 
tance, had  impressed  all  the  boys  with  a  most  whole- 
some awe  of  this  thing  of  smoke,  and  steam,  and 
wheels.  That  railway  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  United 
States,  and  after  being  torn,  twisted,  and  upheaved  by 
the  angry  veterans  of  Johnston  and  Grant,  the  traveler 
glides  over  it  in  Ipalace-cars  upon  well-ballasted  steel 
rails. 

It  was  while  the  family  were  waiting  at  the  depot 
one  cold  December  morning  for  the  train  to  bear  them 
away  upon  their  journey,  our  Tom  picked  up  an  idea 
that  was  destined  to  bring  him  trouble  in  the  near 
future.  A  man  came  in  to  build  a  fire,  and  for  lack  of 
a  shovel  he  brought  a  live  ember  in  his  hands,  which 
he  was  enabled  to  do  by  passing  it  rapidly  from  one  to 
the  other.  This  surprising  performance  captured  Tom 
and  he  mentally  resolved  that  the  first  good  chance  he 
would  go  and  do  likewise,  but  when  he  tried  it  he  sud- 
denly became  a  child  of  proverb.  We  never  get  over 
learning  by  experience,  and  we  drop  many  a  hot  coal 
in  the  busmess  of  maturer  years  more  readily  than  Tom 
did  in  childhood. 

At  a  tender  age  life  in  the  city  became  a  thing  of  the 
past  with  our  boys. 


THE   FIRST   RIVER   JOURNEY.  15 

Suddenly,  without  a  regret,  they  left  the  old  home 
and  plunged  without  remorse  into  the  new  realities  of 
plantation  life. 

Tom  went  down  the  great  Mississippi  river  on  one 
of  those  wonderful  floating  palaces  so  famous  in  ante- 
bellum days  for  splendor,  cards  and  explosions.  The 
trip  was  a  journey  in  wonderland,  and  every  thing  from 
the  mighty  throb  of  the  engine  to  the  startling  melody 
of  the  dinner-gong,  that  most  diabolical  of  all  contri- 
vances for  warning  civilized  man  of  his  meal  time, 
took  our  little  man's  fancy.  So  profound  was  the  im- 
pression made  upon  his  youthful  mind  by  this  trip 
that  in  after  years,  when  at  school,  his  first  essay,  or 
composition,  barring  a  few  animated  nature  descrip- 
tions of  the  dog,  the  cat,  and  the  horse,  was  an  account 
of  the  same. 

A  small  boy  called  Johnnie  was  a  fellow  passenger 
of  Tom's  on  that  delightful  trip,  and  soon  became  his 
most  intimate  chum.  Together  they  explored  all  the 
dark  corners  of  the  boat  and  peered  into  mysterious 
places,  or  perched  upon  the  never-absent  cotton  bale. 
Johnnie  told  how  steamboats  often  "blowed  up  "  and 
killed  all  the  little  boys;  how  dreadful  snags  lay  in 
wait  to  "  bust  right  into  the  side  of  the  boat,"  and  how 
big  whales  were  out  there  in  the  water  waiting  to  swal- 
low the  unfortunate  people. 

Tom  listened  to  those  awful  stories  until  trembling 
at  every  revolution  of  the  ponderous  wheel  he  crept 
close  to  his  little  friend  and  declared  in  a  whisper  that 
he  would  not  dare  to  sleep  a  wink  that  night.     He  for- 


16  TOM    AND   JOE. 

got  all  his  fears  when  the  stars  came  out  and  mother's 
gentle  arms  bore  him  away  to  bed,  and  to  childhood's 
happy  dreams. 

Down  the  great  river,  past  pretty  towns  and  noble 
plantations,  towering  bluffs — since  become  historical — 
and  willow-crowned  points,  the  mighty  steamer  sped 
until  one  gloomy  morning  she  rounded  to  at  a  muddy 
little  town  and  Tom's  river  journey  wae  ended  for 
many  a  year.  This  was  his  first  trip  upon  the  Missis- 
sippi, but  not  his  last.  Let  us  see  how  it  was  that  in 
after  years  our  hero  so  loved  to  travel  on  this  same  great 
river,  and  how  his  hard-earned  dollars  went  to  buy  coal 
for  a  Mississippi  steamboat. 

When,  on  that  first  eventful  journey,  as  Tom  and 
Johnnie  were  racing  up  and  down  the  deck,  getting  in 
everybody's  way,  there  came  down  to  the  landing  of  a 
great  plantation  a  pretty  little  girl,  with  brown  eyes 
and  curly  hair.  She  came  with  her  nurse  to  admire 
the  huge  steamer,  and  as  she  shouted  and  clapped  her 
little  hands,  Tom  and  Johnnie  cut  their  loftiest  capers. 
Was  it  fate  ?  Tom  is  now  sure  that  it  was  the  work  of 
Providence,  and  kindly  work,  too. 

The  boat  passed  on  its  journey,  the  little  girl  faded 
from  view  for  many  a  year,  to  reappear  in  all  the  fresh 
beauty  of  young  womanhood,  and  we  shall  see  Johnnie 
no  more.  Many  a  time  has  Tom  sat  and  pondered 
over  the  fate  of  his  vanished  chum.  Did  he  get 
"  blowed  up,"  as  he  so  often  expressed  it  ?  Did  he  grow 
tired  of  life's  journey  early  and  lie  down  by  the  way- 
side to  rest,  or  did  he  reach  young  manhood  and  then 


THE    FIRST   KIVER   JOURNEY.  17 

give  himself  to  his  country  upon  some  awful  field  of 
carnage?  It  is  useless  to  speculate.  Johnnie  has 
served  his  purpose  in  this  story,  and  since  Tom  has 
given  him  up  for  lost,  from  this  good  hour  he  shall  be 
dead  to  us. 

A  muddy  landing,  where  he  lost  one  of  his  shoes,  a 
long  carriage  ride  through  lanes,  fields,  and  forests, 
over  bridges  and  across  fords,  and  Tom's  first  journey 
was  ended,  when,  at  supper-time,  he  found  his  first  and 
only  grandmama. 

What  a  blessed  name,  and  how  we  pity  the  boy  or 
girl  who  never  knew  a  grandmother  !  Dear,  patient 
old  mothers,  who  shield  us  so  often  from  the  righteous 
wrath  of  a  parent,  and  whose  store-room  or  pantry  is 
always  filled  with  goodies,  how  can  I  do  you  sufiicient 
honor  ? 

There  is  not  a  little  girl  in  America  who  does  not  vow 
in  her  heart  of  hearts  that  she  too  will  become  a  grand- 
mama,  and  there  never  was  a  man  worthy  of  the  name 
who  would  fail  to  take  off  his  hat  as  one  of  these  noble 
old  mothers  passed  on  her  trembling  way.  Her  dear 
face  shines  with  angelic  light,  and  heaven  comes  down 
to  meet  her  as  she  draws  near  its  portal.  There  is  a 
halo  of  good  deeds  about  the  blessed  head,  and  the 
restful  song  in  her  heart  has  never  a  note  of  discord. 


CHAPTER  III. 


BELHA  VEN—AND  THE  FIRST  SQ  UIRREL. 

SjlHE  intelligent  tourist  when  in  Europe  visits  the 
-*■  house  where  Goethe  was  born,  and  wanders  thought- 
fully about  the  place  that  claims  Dante ;  in  America, 
the  log  cabin  where  Lincoln  first  saw  the  light,  or  the  su- 
perb homes  of  Washington  and  Lee,  are  alike  objects 
of  untiring  interest,  but  who  will  ever  care  to  know 
anything  about  the  early  home  of  our  Tom  and  our 
Joe?  The  house  where  they  were  born  will  never 
again  echo  to  mortal  footsteps,  and  we  hope  to  tell 
in  a  later  chapter  how  and  when  it  ceased  to  be  a 
habitation. 

There  was  perhaps  no  lovelier  or  more  homelike  por- 
tion of  America  than  the  hill  country  of  Eastern  Lou- 
isiana, and  it  was  well  named  by  early  settlers,  "  Happy 
land."  Magnificent  forests  of  hardwood,  swift,  purling 
streams  through  every  valley,  vast  fields  of  corn  and 
cotton,  elegant  residences  and  densely  peopled  quarters, 
all  combined  to  make  that  favored  section  the  one 
green  spot  of  earth  to  thousands  of  happy  dwellers. 
Enthusiastic  men  called  it  Paradise.  Of  one  thing  we 
are  certain;  during  the  decade  ending  with  ISGOitwas 
the  beautiful  Southland  intensified,  and  the  very  home 
of  contentment. 

(18) 


BELHAVEN AND    THE    FIRST    SQUIRREL.  19 

But  the  picture  has  changed  as  when  upon  some 
summer  day  the  tempest  sweeps  down  a  lovely  valley 
and  blots  out  its  fairest  features.  Gone  are  its  culti- 
vated fields,  its  wealth,  its  customs,  and  forever  gone 
are  most  of  its  happy  people.  The  noble  old  men  and 
the  tender  old  women  who  made  Feliciana  famous  for 
culture,  and  elegant  hospitality,  lived  to  see  their  wealth 
all  swept  from  them,  and  after  a  few  years  of  toil  and 
sorrowing  passed  away.  The  brave  young  men  of  that 
region  are  scattered  wath  the  heroic  dead  on  every  bat- 
tle-field from  Manassas  to  Franklin,  while  the  precious 
girls  have  also  vanished — "Some  at  the  bridal  and 
some  to  the  tomb." 

Capital  and  labor  may  build  again  more  costly  homes 
on  every  slope  and  forest-crowned  hill ;  broader  fields 
may  be  opened,  and  the  spring  times  that  come  and  go 
may  bring  back  fairer  flowers  than  thos«  of  the  long 
ago  May-day  ;  but  no  spring  time,  nor  wealth,  nor  skill 
and  labor,  can  call  again  the  happy  peace  and  the 
heavenly  content  that  rested  like  a  benediction  upon 
land  and  people. 

It  was  in  this  lovely  region  and  upon  one  of  its  no- 
blest plantations  that  our  two  boys  met  to  begin  life 
anew  and  drink  in  all  its  happy  fullness  for  ten  beau- 
tiful years.  Belhaven  was  a  lovely  home  rnd  its  dwell- 
ers were  content.  With  a  sturdy  manliness,  always  his 
characteristic,  our  Joe  soon  mastered  every  detail  of 
plantation  life,  and  became  his  father's  right-hand  man- 
Our  fond  eyes  can  see  him  yet,  after  thirty  years,  as 
proudly  conscious  of  the  trust  he  carried  the  keys  to 


20  TOM    AND    JOE. 

barn  and  storehouses,  and  superintended  the  distri- 
bution of  rations  for  the  servants  or  forage  for  the 
stock.  Or,  how  confidently  he  rode  into  the  neighbor- 
ing village  and  looked  after  certain  shipments  of  cot- 
ton, or  selected  sundry  barrels  of  supplies.  How  readily 
the  brave,  thoughtful  boy  becomes  the  moving  spirit  of 
the  farm,  and  how  quickly  all  learn  to  rely  upon  him. 
His  opinion  is  early  sought  in  out-door  matters  and  ho 
has  a  voice  in  the  family  council.  Blessed  is  the  brave 
home  boy  in  the  eyes  of  father  and  mother,  and  to  lov- 
ing sisters  he  is  the  manliest  man  on  earth. 

Joe  early  became  a  mighty  hunter,  and  took  pleasure 
in  initiating  our  little  Tom  into  all  the  mysteries  of  both 
gun  and  rod.  There  is  no  happier  mortal  than  a  boy 
with  a  gun  bringing  down  his  first  squirrel.  After 
years  may  bring  him  many  honors,  much  wealth,  and 
an  abundance  of  happiness,  but  we  doubt  if  there  is  a 
more  exquisite  moment  in  all  his  career  than  this — 
when,  unheeding  the  misery  inflicted  upon  a  poor  little 
creature,  bang  goes  the  gun,  and  down  comes  the  game. 
How  intimately  our  pleasures  are  often  blended  with 
the  suffering  of  some  other  creature,  and  some  of  our 
joys  are  builded  upon  the  sorrows  of  a  fellow  ! 

Tom  used  to  be  Joe's  shadow,  and  went  with  him 
always  to  "  turn  the  squirrels  "  and  carry  the  game 
nor  will  he  ever  forget  the  occasion,  or  the  place,  when 
finding  two  large  fox-squirrels  in  one  tree,  Joe  gener- 
ously allowed  him  to  choose  one  and  take  a  shot  at  it. 
So  important  an  event  in  Tom's  career  must  have,  as 
it  deserves,  more  than  a  passing  notice.     We  know  the 


BELHAVEN AND    THE    FIRST   SQUIKREL.  21 

spot  well,  for  did  Tom  ever  pass  it  without  calling 
attention  to  his  exploit !  Never.  Yes,  he  did  go  by 
once,  a  few  years  later,  but  he  was  in  an  awful  hurry 
and  did  not  linger.  Later  on  we  will  tell  why  Tom 
was  so  interested  in  getting  away  from  there. 

The  tree  where  this  squirrel  episode  took  place  was  a 
pine  to  which  clung  a  large  muscadine  vine,  and  it 
probably  yet  stands  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky  hill  near  the 
old  pasture-field  of  Belhaven.  The  gun  was  a  long 
double-barreled  fowling  piece,  famous  in  all  that  sec- 
tion for  its  shooting  qualities,  but  so  heavy  that  it 
required  almost  a  man's  strength  to  handle  it.  There 
was  no  kinder  brother  than  Joe,  so  he  humped  his  back 
and  let  Tom  take  a  rest  on  it,  until  after  a  long  and 
tiresome  effort  to  get  aim  there  came  a  tremendous 
bang  and  the  sad  little  period  of  one  squirrel's  life  was 
forever  rounded.  Intensely  excited,  Tom  dropped  the 
gun,  gathered  up  the  game,  and  almost  flew  to  the 
house,  a  mile  ji  way,  where  admiring  mother  and  sisters 
listened  with  unflagging  interest  to  every  detail  of  the 
killing  and  foretold  greater  things  for  the  future.  The 
Judge  also  took  great  interest  in  his  son's  performance, 
for  he  was  himself  an  accomplished  sportsman,  and 
ordered  an  extra  quantity  of  lightwood  prepared  in 
case  it  became  necessary  to  sit  up  with  Tom  that 
night. 

"You  are  making  fun  of  me  now,  father,"  cried  the 
boy,  and  his  eyes  began  to  fill,  when  just  then  Joe  came 
in,  and  in  his  affectionate  way  told  again  the  wonderful 
story  until  Tom  was  too  proud  to  cry. 


22  TOM    AND   JOE. 

Since  that  day  the  young  Nirnrod  has  brought  down 
all  sorts  and  sizes  of  game  with  the  hitest  improved 
tackle,  but  never  again  will  he  kill  his  first  squirrel, 
and  alas!  alas!  poor,  dear,  generous  Joe  will  never 
again  applaud  the  successful  hunter. 

Those  blessed  days  and  years  that  fled  all  too  quickly 
at  beautiful   Belhaven  measured  the  time  until  ISGl. 

Tom  was  then  twelve  years  of  age  and  Joe  was  sev- 
enteen— still  brothers,  always  companions.  At  school 
together,  and  side  by  side  in  the  cotton-})atch  ;  roam- 
ing the  beech-covered  hills,  plunging  into  the  ni-igh- 
boring  swimming  hole,  hunting  the  coon  and  opossum 
during  the  stilly  hours  of  night,  or  watching  the  winter 
flight  of  duck  and  pigeon;  always  together,  our  two 
boys  looked  only  to  a  happy  future,  and  dreamed  of 
no  sorrow  so  great  as  separation. 

We  cling  to  those  we  love,  but  a  mightier  power — 
call  it  Fate  or  Providence — drags  us  asunder,  and  as 
we  drift  apart  in  clouds  and  darkness,  poor  mute 
hands  beckon  to  each  other  through  the  mist. 

Our  boys  had  lived  m  an  Eden,  and  saw  not  the 
shadow  just  over  the  wall.  The  quiet  corner  where 
they  grew  in  strength  and  happiness  was  as  free  from 
care  as  the  h-ome  of  our  first  parents,  but  by-and-by 
they  heard  vague  rumors  of  two  great  serpents,  called 
Abolition  and  Secession,  which  were  filling  all  the  land 
with  the  sound  of  their  hissings,  so  that  men  began  to 
assemble  and  discuss  the  prospect,  or  possibilities,  of 
some  dreadful  political  convulsion.  In  the  light  of 
to-day  it  seems  strange  that  there  was  no  Hercules  pow- 


BELHAVEX AND    THE    FIRST   SQUIRREL.  23 

erful  enough  to  strangle  those  dread  ministers  of  Fate, 
but  men  were  mad  and  reason  had  fled  away.  The 
accumulated  wrath  of  many  a  bitter  controversy  had 
filled  their  hearts  and  nerved  their  arms  for  a  struggle 
to  the  death.  The  demon  in  man  was  unloosed  for  a 
season,  and  brothers  who  had  followed  the  starry  flag 
to  freedom  and  to  fame  forgot  that  they  were  brothers. 
All  was  love  and  peace  at  Belhaven,  but  the  deluge 
came,  and  the  song  of  birds  was  lieard  no  more.  What 
could  our  two  bo3's  know  of  such  things  ?  and  it  was 
cruel  to  break  in  upon  their  happy  lives.  It  seemed 
cruel  then,  and  it  seems  cruel  now.  Perhaps  one  day 
we  shall  all  know  why  it  was  permitted. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


BOY  HE  A  VEN. 


n^HE  boy  who  does  not  love  to  fisli,  if  one  such  exists, 
J[  will  bear  watching.  There  is  something  wrong  in 
his  make-up;  some  inherent  lack  of  naturalness  that 
calls  for  our  pity  rather  than  our  condemnation.  The 
sport  may  be  called  cruel,  but  we  shall  not  discuss  that 
question,  nor  shall  we  point  out  the  numberless  laws 
and  authorities  justifying  it,  from  the  day  w^hen  the 
apostle  said  "  I  go  a- fishing,"  until  now.  We  will  only 
accept  a  delightful  fact,  and  continue  to  dig  for  earth- 
worms when  the  flowers  blossom  and  the  birds  mate. 
We  are  really  sorry  for  the  boy  who  takes  no  pleasure 
in  fishing.  He  is  not  fairly  rounding  out  life's  joys, 
and  passes  into  manhood  without  knowing  all  the 
capabilities  of  boyhood.  The  twelve-year-old  boy  finds 
more  genuine  pleasure  fishing  for  mudcats,  eels,  and 
suckers,  along  some  dirty  little  creek,  than  grown-up 
folks  can  ever  know  amid  clearer  waters  and  more 
royal  game. 

Our  Tom  and  Joe  loved  to  fish.  They  were  earnest 
sportsmen  and  intensely  natural,  hence  it  was  that  one 
fine  spring  morning  in  1861  Joe  bounced  out  of  bed 
and  called : 

"Tom!   Tom  I  get  up,  you  lazy  young  rascal !" 

(24) 


BOY   HEAVEN,  25 

" Oh,  go  away,  Joe !  I'm  sleepy,"  answered  Tom,  then 
he  yawned  and  stretched,  rolling  over  for  another  nap. 
Joe  again  called :  "  Tom  !  come  now,  be  lively,  and 
listen  to  the  birds.  I  hear  the  red-bird  and  the  joree 
fairly  splitting  their  little  throats  out  in  the  front  woods. 
Get  up,  boy,  get  up !    Out  with  you,  and  hear  them  ! " 

•■'Oh,  plague  on  the  birds,  let  'em  split!  I'll  fling  a 
rock  at  them  when  I  get  out.  Why  the  diccance  can't 
you  let  a  fellow  sleep?" — then  the  young  sluggard 
turned  over  to  the  wall. 

But  Joe  persisted — "I  say,  Tom  !  T  saw  the  dogwood 
along  the  spring  branch  all  bursting  out  into  bloom 
yesterday." 

"Well,  what  of  it?  Confound  it  all,  Joe!  here  you 
are  first  bothering  me  about  the  Vjirds,  and  now  poking 
your  flowers  at  me !  Can't  you  let  them  bloom  in 
peace  ?  What  do  you  suppose  I  care  for  all  the  dogwood 
wood  blossoms  this  side  of  Halifax  ?    Git  out  with  you !  " 

Tom  was  now  thoroughly  mad,  and  covering  his 
head  with  the  pillow,  determined  to  hear  no  more,  but 
Joe  laughingly  replied : 

"  All  right,  young  man.  I  thought  you  knew  that 
when  the  dogwood  blooms  it  is  time  for  trout  to  bite. 
I  am  going  fishing  after  breakfast,  but  you  may  stay 
at  home." 

At  the  first  mention  of  fish  Tom  was  wide-awake, 
and  drawing  his  head  from  under  the  cover,  where  he 
had  thrust  it,  sprang  out  of  bed  with  a  bounce. 

"Hurrah  for  General  Jackson*!"  he  shouted,  "we 
are  going  fishing !  we  are  going  fishing!"  and  as  he 
2 


26  TOM   AND    JOE. 

crawled  into  his  trousers  lie  rattled  away:  "I  was 
down  at  the  creek  yesterday,  when  father  sent  me  to 
look  for  the  big  spotted  sow,  that  has  eight  cunning 
little  pigs,  and  I  thought  the  water  looked  awful  nice 
and  fishy.  Shall  I  dig  some  worms  for  perch  and  min- 
nows, Joe  ?  There's  just  oodles  of  worms,  great,  long, 
wriggling  fellows,  out  back  of  the  wash-shed,  and  I  can 
get  a  gourdful  in  most  no  time." 

"All  right,"  replied  Joe,  "  you  get  the  bait  and  I'll  look 
after  the  hooks  and  lines,  which  need  overhauling. 
Go  by  mother's  room  and  ask  her  to  hurry  the  cook 
with  breakfast.  I  talked  with  father  last  night  and 
wanted  him  to  go  with  us,  but  he  has  to  go  to  town 
to-day  on  business,  so  we  must  go  without  him.  You 
dig  the  bait  quickly,  and  run  drive  the  calves  to  the 
pasture;  as  soon  as  I  look  over  these  fishing  lines  I  will 
get  old  Pedro  and  carry  a  bag  of  cotton-seed  up  to  the 
big  mud  hole  for  the  hogs,  and  by  that  time  breakfast 
will  be  ready." 

Our  boys  sped  away  whistling  and  shouting  upon 
the  mission  of  their  several  farm  duties,  and  soon  after 
sunrise,  with  breakfast  hastily  swallowed,  well-filled 
lunch-basket,  gourdful  of  earth  worms  and  grubs,  off 
they  went  to  spend  a  day  in  the  forest,  and  along  the 
bank  of  the  bright  little  creek.  0,  beautiful  day!  0, 
day  of  perfect  joy  !  day  to  be  remembered  while  Tom 
lives,  and  we  doubt  not  that  in  the  hereafter  the  unfor- 
getting  spirit  will  fondly  dwell  upon  it,  and  recall  its 
pleasures  for  comparison  with  nobler  joys ! 


BOY    HEAVEN.  27 

In  front  of  the  dwelling  at  Belhaven  is  one  of  the 
noblest  forests  of  magnolia,  oak,  beech,  and  sweetgum 
that  ever  delighted  human  eye,  while  the  surface 
sweeps  gradually  and  beautifully  down  for  about  one 
third  of  a  mile  to  a  little  spring  branch  at  the  edge  of 
what  w^as  called  the  swamp. 

The  boys  sped  rapidly  through  that  beautiful  grove, 
then  on  for  a  few  hundred  yards  underneath  the  heavy 
timber  of  the  swamp, across  the  "  slashes"  by  a  mighty 
foot-log,  they  followed  a  well-beaten  path*  amid  swamp 
laurel  and  pawpaw^  thickets  to  the  creek.  Here  was 
one  of  the  famous  fishing  and  swimming  holes,  known 
to  all  the  boys  of  the  neighborhood,  which  Tom  and 
Joe  now  approached  with  quiet  footsteps,  and  with 
breathless  alacrity  prepared  for  the  day's  sport. 

"  Now,  Tom,  you  put  your  small  hook  over  in  the 
shallow  water  near  the  sand  bar  and  catch  me  a 
shiner.  I  think  there  is  a  trout  at  the  riffle  where  the 
w^ater  passes  over  that  log,  and  with  a  nice  live  bait  I 
can  catch  him." 

"  Oh,  Joe,  catch  your  owm  minnows  !  I  w^ant  to  catch 
a  perch  here  at  this  little  drift," — and  our  unobliging 
young  fisherman,  seating  himself  upon  a  mossy  beech 
root,  at  once  forgot  how  much  kindness  he  owed  to 
Joe. 

"Tom,  you  are  a  mean,  chuckle-headed  fellow,  and 
are  aw^fully  unobliging.  You  forget  that  I  pummelled 
John  Barton  not  long  ago  for  slapping  you,  although 
you   richly   deserved  a  licking.     John  says  you  put 


28  TOM    AND    JOE. 

cockleburrs  under  his  saddle  and  made  old  Prince  run 
away  with  him,  and  that  you  chopped  liis  shinny-stick 
into  pieces  with  the  axe.  Of  course  you  deserved  a 
thrashing,  as  you  do  about  three  times  a  day,  but  then 
he  is  not  the  fellow  to  give  it  to  you.  So  now  after  all 
this,  you  wont  oblige  me?  Suppose  I  catch  a  fine 
trout?  you  will  be  the  very  first  one  at  the  table  to 
want  a  piece  of  it."  Joe  nearly  lost  his  temper  with 
his  little  brother  this  time  and  Tom  fired  in  with — 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say,  Joe,  but  you 
know  that  mother  always  eats  the  trout,  and  for  my 
part  I'd  rather  have  blue  cat  any  day." 

He  saw  the  pained  expression  on  Joe's  face  and  his 
conscience  smote  him,  for  his  kind  brother  was  very 
dear  to  Tom,  so  he  said :  "  Forgive  me,  Joe,  dear.  It  was 
mighty  good  of  you  to  wallop  old  John  Barton,  the  old 
pug-nosed  rascal !  He  took  his  great  foot  and  kicked 
all  my  marbles  out  of  the  ring,  off  into  the  grass,  so  I 
lost  my  pretty  agate  that  father  bought  me  Christmas, 
and  that  cute  little  black  alley.  I  despise  him  !  I  could 
beat  him  half  to  death — but  I'll  get  even  with  him  if 
it  takes  me  a  thousand  years." 

"  I'll  catch  you  a  minnow,  Joe,  and  I'm  sorry  I  was  so 
selfish — besides,  the  perch  don't  bite  here  worth 
shucks." 

There  seems  to  have  been  a  good  deal  of  every-day 
human  nature  about  our  Tom.  The  perch  refused  to 
bite,  so  he  became  very  penitent  and  was  ready  to  give 
up  his  own  pleasure  to  wait  upon  his  brother.  It  often 
happens  that  way  with  older  persons  wdien  perch  refuse 


BOY   HEAVEN.  29 

to  bite.  Ere  long  a  bright,  dancing  silverside  was 
dangling  on  the  end  of  Tom's  line,  and  hookingit  care- 
fully under  the  dorsal  fin,  Joe  had  as  pretty  a  bait  as 
ever  tempted  the  fastidious  trout  from  his  lair  beneath 
beech  roots. 

All  was  now  suppressed  excitement  while  Joe  played 
his  minnow  to  attract  the  royal  game.  Tom  scarcely 
dared  to  breathe,  and  an  ill-timed  sneeze  would  have 
sent  him  to  execution  at  once.  The  bright  waters  rip- 
pled and  sang  their  lullaby  over  fallen  tree  and  bended 
reed  ;  an  early  kingfisher,  intent  upon  his  breakfast, 
plunged  from  a  neighboring  bough  upon  a  luckless 
minnow;  the  cat  bird  called  to  its  mate  in  the  alder 
bushes  around  the  bend,  and  the  Spanish  bugler,  whose 
mellow  notes  along  the  creek  always  indicate  good 
fishing,  was  piping  his  sweetest,  when  suddenly  there 
came  a  splash — a  gleam  of  white  flashed  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning — then  away  went  Joe's  cork,  and 
his  line  fairly  whizzed  through  the  water. 

" Ge-e-e-mennie,  what  a  whopper!  Hold  him,  Joe! 
Jerk  him  out!"  cried  Tom,  but  our  Joe  was  older  and 
wiser.  He  had  learned  that  the  most  exquisite  joy  of 
the  angler  is  not  in  yanking  his  game  suddenly  upon 
the  bank,  but  in  allowing  it  to  play ;  in  feeling  the 
electric  thrill  that  passes  along  the  line  and  rod ;  in 
conquering  the  noble  fish  gently  and  skillfully.  Away 
went  the  line,  singing  through  the  water,  until  it  was 
perfectly  taut  and  the  pliant  rod  was  bent  like  a  bow. 
"  Easy,  now,  old  fellow,"  said  Joe,  "  you'll  not  get  under 
those  roots  if  I  can  help  it.     Play  now  until  yon  are 


30  TOM    AND    JOE. 

tired,  and — wup,  sir!"  as  the  fish  sprang  wildly  out  of 
the  water  trying  in  vain  to  shake  the  liook  from  its 
mouth.  "Gracious!  he'll  get  loose  if  he  does  that 
again."  The  angler  was  skillful  and  the  fish  was 
game,  but  the  odds  were  all  on  one  side,  and  soon  the 
uoble  trout  gave  up  the  struggle,  floundering  helplessly 
upon  its  side,  until  it  was  gently  drawn  to  the  bank 
and  cast  fluttering  unon  the  leaves. 

"  lie  is  a  good  one,  and  will  weigh  at  least  three 
pounds,"  cried  the  exultant  Joe,  as  he  looked  with  a 
fisherman's  pride  upon  his  catch. 

"  Three  pounds!  "  answered  Tom.  "  Three  diccance! 
I'll  bet  you  a  thousand  dollars  it  will  weigh  ten  pounds 
on  any  scale  that  ever  was  invented.  Three  pounds, 
indeed !  I'd  like  to  see  mother  try  to  eat  all  that  fish. 
She  will  have  to  call  in  father  and  the  girls  to  help 
her.  I'll  call  it  ten  pounds,  anyhow."  Thus  we  see 
our  Tom  beginning  early  to  lay  the  foundation  for  his 
future  fame  as  a  manufacturer  of  fish  stories.  The  boy 
could  not  keep  away  from  the  big  fish,  but  sadly  neg- 
lected his  own  hook,  until  an  exclamation  from  Joe : 

"  Look  out,  Tom !  something  has  got  your  line,  and 
is  running  off  with  it."  Greatly  excited,  Tom  sprang 
to  reach  his  pole,  when  a  wild  honeysuckle  tripped  his 
foot,  and  he  rolled  down  the  slope,  lieels  over  head, 
landing  near  the  water's  edge  in  exactly  the  right 
place.  Seizing  his  rod,  he  gave  it  a  mighty  jerk,  land- 
ing hook,  line,  and  fish  twenty  feet  above,  among  the 
limbs  of  the  old  beech  at  whose  base  he  had  been  sitting. 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  hurry ! "  laughed  Joe. 


BOY    HEAVEN.  31 

"Oh,  pshaw!  dog-bite  such  luck!"  exclaimed  Tom, 
whose  face  was  the  living  image  of  despair.  "  I  wish 
you  would  look  at  that,  Joe.  Now,  ain't  that  enough 
to  make  a  fellow  cuss  ?  Just  look  what  a  fish !  It's 
all  mouth,  as  father  said  of  that  fellow  we  heard  talk- 
ing about  the  Yankees  the  other  day,  at  the  big  meet- 
ing in  town.  He  said  he  could  whip  five  Yankees  any 
day,  and  that  he  would  undertake  to  drink  all  the 
blood  shed  in  the  war  people  are  talking  about.  You 
think  he  could  do  it,  Joe?  " 

Tom  had  caught  one  of  those  funny-looking  perch 
whose  development  of  mouth  is  something  marvelous. 

Joe  answered  him  that  the  wild-talking  man  w^ould 
probably  not  fight  so  well  as  he  talked,  then  with  in- 
finite patience  he  untangled  the  line  from  the  tree,  and 
all  was  lovely  again.  Some  beautiful  speckled  perch, 
a  half-dozen  red-horses,  as  many  black  bream,  rewarded 
Joe's  skill,  but  nothing  more  like  the  champion  trout. 
Tom  caught  several  small  sunfish,  a  couple  of  idiotic 
suckers,  and  finally  wound  up  the  afternoon  by  haul- 
ing out  a  magnificent  blue-cat,  the  king  of  all  game 
fish  in  Southern  waters.  Such  wonderful  sport  thej 
had  that  day,  and  what  a  glorious  appetite !  They 
could  hardly  wait  until  the  great  bell  of  a  neighboring 
plantation  rang  out  the  hour  of  twelve,  to  attack  the 
well-filled  lunch  basket.  Boys  get  hungry  early  and 
often ;  especially  is  this  true  when  off  in  the  woods  on 
a  day  of  frolic.  No  other  pleasure  can  overshadow  the 
anticipation  of  dinner,  unless  it  be  the  dinner,  and  the 
afternoon  refiections,  when,  lying  upon  a  mossy  knoll 


32  TOM    AND   JOE. 

near  the  creek,  gazing  contentedly  at  the  distant  blue 
that  glimmers  down  amid  the  overhanging  branches, 
are  a  species  of  bliss  not  to  be  ignored  in  this  prosaic 
world  of  ours. 

The  young  fishermen  were  hungry,  and  the  dinner 
was  most  enticing.  What  delicious,  home-cured  ham  ! 
and  there  never  was  such  bread  as  the  old-time  sweet- 
potato  biscuit  that  Aunt  Viney,  the  cook,  used  to  make 
at  Belhaven  !  Eggs,  hard  boiled,  and  a  little  paper  of 
pepper  and  salt.  No  dyspepsia  troubled  those  two 
sturdy  country  boys,  and  later  on,  one  dreadful  night 
upon  the  battle-field  of  Chickamauga,  Joe  ate  seventeen 
hard-boiled  eggs  to  nerve  him  for  the  next  day's  fear- 
ful conflict.  But  the  basket  is  not  yet  empty.  Those 
slices  of  potato-pone,  spiced  and  browned  until  fit  for  a 
king,  or  an  American  citizen,  still  cling  to  Tom's  mem- 
ory. He  has  partaken  of  many  noble  banquets  since 
that  day ;  has  dined  at  the  fashionable  restaurants  of 
our  great  cities ;  partaken  of  unlimited  w^edding  cake, 
and  enjoyed  tlie  steak  of  venison  when  hunger  w'as 
sharpened  by  keen  mountain  air,  but  never  with  such 
a  relish  as  when  a  boy  on  the  old  plantation  he  wrestled 
with  the  toothsome  potato-pone.  Yet  there  are  thous- 
ands of  persons  in  this  vast  country  who  never  heard 
of  that  dish,  and  tens  of  thousands  who  never  tasted. 
We  are  sorry  for  them.  Perhaps  Tom's  boyish  appetite 
doesn't  linger  with  him  until  now.  He  always  swears, 
gastronomically,  by  Aunt  Viney,  and  declares  that  the 
Roman  Emperor  who  knighted  a  subject  for  inventing 
a  new  dish  would  have  made  her  an  Ethiopic  queen. 


BOY    HEAVEN.  33 

Such  a  day  and  such  a  dinner !  Two  joyous  happy 
boys  in  boy  heaven  !  Yet  even  as  they  lolled  along  the 
banks  of  the  creek  singing  and  shouting  in  all  the 
abandon  of  young  life,  or  lingered  above  the  clear 
waters  dreaming  such  dreams  as  come  only  to  happy 
boyhood,  the  long-peaceful  land  was  startled  by  the 
explosion  of  great  guns,  and  from  out  the  sulphurous 
clouds  that  hung  over  Charleston  harbor  leaped  light- 
nings whose  deadly  glare  was  destined  to  blind  the 
eyes  and  reason  of  raging  millions.  The  bells  were 
wildly  ringing  in  all  great  cities  a  tocsin  that  would 
soon  be  muffled  into  a  funeral  knell.  No  sound  reached 
the  two  happy  boys,  for  they  were  out  in  the  forest  with 
nature  and  close  to  the  God  of  nature. 

As  Tom  and  Joe  stepped  into  the  house  that  evening 
they  met  their  father,  who  had  just  returned  from  town. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  quivering  with  excitement,  "  the  war 
has  begun.  The  Confederates  opened  fire  on  Fort  Sum- 
ter this  morning.  Oh,  my  God  !  what  is  to  become  of 
our  poor  country  !" 


CHAPTER  V. 

AN  ORIGINAL  UNION  MAN 

rnHERE  was  a  strange  commingling  of  joy  and  sorrow 
[  all  over  the  South  on  that  fateful  night  of  April 
12th,  1861.  Thousands  were  rejoicing  that  the  deci- 
sive step  had  hcen  taken,  and  yet  other  thousands  were 
full  of  grief  when  they  remembered  the  dear  old  flag 
that  was  then  waving  grandly  as  of  old,  amid  a  storm 
of  shot  and  shell.  Every  intelligent  boy  in  the  land 
had  dreamed  of  heroic  endeavor  under  that  flag,  and 
many  brave  men  of  the  South  looked  to  it  with  love 
and  hope  amid  the  tempest  of  battle  in  far  ofT 
Mexico. 

By  a  bare  majority  had  the  State  of  Louisiana  voted 
to  leave  the  Federal  Union,  and  among  the  many  thous- 
ands who  loved  that  Union,  and  its  glorious  banner, 
none  were  more  honest  in  devotion  than  the  father  of 
our  boys.  After  supper,  where  mother  had  made  an 
heroic  effort  to  eat  the  trout,  as  Tom  had  predicted, 
and  he  had  feasted  on  blue-cat,  the  family  all  as- 
sembled in  the  sitting-room  to  discuss  the  mighty 
event  of  that  day.  Joe  had  read  the  newspapers 
and  kept  pace  with  the  drift  of  events  so  that  his 
mind  was  made  up.  Every  boy  in  the  South  who 
reached  the  age  of  seventeen  prior  to  the  war  knew  a 

(34) 


AN    ORIGINxVL    UNION    MAN.  35 

great  deal  about  the  political  history  of  his  country. 
They  read  the  papers,  and  got  their  political  bias  from 
some  one  of  the  great  journals  of  the  age.  Quick  to 
argue  a  point,  or  dispute  a  proposition,  they  were  born 
politicians. 

"  Father,"  said  Joe,  "  I  tried  to-day  while  we  were 
fishing  to  explain  to  Tom  why  Louisiana  and  the  other 
Southern  States  have  a  perfect  right  to  secede,  but  he 
is  so  pig-headed  that  he  won't  understand  it.  I 
think  the  young  rascal  is  a  half  abolitionist  anyhow." 

"  It's  no  such  of  a  thing !  "  wrathfully  cried  Tom  ; 
"  but  I  don't  want  to  belong  to  any  other  country  than 
the  good  old  United  States,  and  I  should  like  to  know 
what  is  going  to  become  of  George  Washington  and 
Andrew  Jackson  if  we  go  off  and  make  a  new  coun- 
try?" 

"  We  will  take  their  bones  along  with  us  if  that  will 
do  any  good,"  replied  Joe;  ''besides,  Tennessee  and  Vir- 
ginia are  bound  to  come.  But,  father,  give  us  your 
views,  and  may  be  you  can  settle  the  young  man." 

There  w^as  a  solemn  pause  for  a  few  moments,  and 
such  a  hush  fell  on  the  assembly  as  comes  over  a  court- 
room when  the  judge  puts  on  the  black  cap;  then  in 
low  tones  the  father  proceeded  to  tell  what  he  thought 
of  tlie  momentous  question. 

"  My  son,  you  all  know  that  two  weeks  ago  I  voted 
against  Secession,  and  I  prayed  as  I  voted.  I  thought 
it  not  only  inexpedient,  but  wrong.  I  am  a  whig,  and 
I  love  the  Union  as  Mr.  Clay  loved  it ;  but  I  am  also  a 
believer  in   the    wholesome    democratic    doctrine   of 


36  TOM    AND    JOE. 

majority  rule.  My  State,  exercising  her  sovereign  will, 
has  gone  out  of  the  Union,  and  now  I  have  no  choice 
but  to  cling  to  her,  however  my  views  may  diifer  from 
those  of  the  majority.  The  king  can  do  no  wrong,  and 
my  State  is  my  king.  I  yet  think  that  secession  is 
wrong  in  practice,  since  we  have  no  just  cause  for  leaving 
the  Federal  Union.  There  has  been  no  violation  of  the 
constitution,  nor  can  I  see  where  any  established  right 
of  ours  has  been  legally  restricted.  True  it  is  that  they 
hide  our  runaway  slaves  up  North  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  authorities,  and  it  may  be  that  the  authorities 
do  not  try  to  find  them,  but  we  on  the  other  hand 
hang  such  fellows  as  we  catch  here  meddling  with  our 
negroes,  so  the  honors  are  about  even. 

"We  have  fuller  representation  in  Congress  than  the 
non-slaveholding  States,  inasmuch  as  our  slaves,  who 
cannot  vote,  are  in  fact  represented.  That  we  did  not 
vote  for  Mr.  Lincoln  was  our  privilege,  and  it  was 
equally  the  privilege  of  our  Northern  brethren  to  vote 
for  him.  They  did  vote  for  him  and  he  was  legally 
elected.  What  reason  have  we  for  complaining?  We 
scattered  our  votes  among  three  candidates  and  so  lost 
them  all,  therefore,  we  should  abide  the  result  of  our 
folly.  This  very  fact  shows  how  hopelessly  we  are 
divided  in  the  presence  of  the  gravest  political  move- 
ment of  the  age ;  and  let  me  say  further,  that  there 
can  be  no  adverse  legislation  that  will  trample  the  con- 
stitutional rights  of  any  section,  or  individual,  for  we 
have  a  Supreme  Court  which  has  been  uniformly 
friendly  to  us  and  our  pet  institution.  Should  we  cling 


AN   ORIGINAL    UNION   MAN.  S7 

to  the  government  our  strength  in  Congress  will  pre- 
vent any  very  hostile  legislation,  and  there  is  sufficient 
friendly  sentiment  in  the  Northern  States  to  keep  us 
from  all  harm  if  we  are  found  at  our  post.  Further- 
more, the  government  and  the  flag  are  ours  as  much 
as  they  belong  to  any  other  section,  but  when  we 
thrust  these  things  from  us,  and  disclaim  all  interest 
in  both;  when  we  violate  the  law  and  resist  the 
authority  of  that  government,  we  need  not  expect  any- 
thing else  than  trouble.  We  of  Louisiana,  especially, 
have  no  right  to  secede,  for  did  not  the  United  States 
buy  us  with  their  money,  making  us  one  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  when  we  w^ere  threatened  with  foreign  inva- 
sion sent  that  great  soldier  and  ardent  Unionist,  Andrew 
Jackson,  by  whom  all  democrats  swear,  to  protect  us  ? 
Even  our  boy  Tom  there  knows  how  well  he  did  it. 
We  were  purchased  from  a  European  despotism,  and 
made  a  sovereign  state,  so  you  see,  my  son,  it  is 
the  rankest  ingratitude  for  us  to  destroy  the  mother 
who  took  us  to  her  bosom  and  nurtured  us." 

Joe  here  interrupted  :  "  But,  father,  do  not  many  of 
the  ablest  expounders  of  the  constitution  declare  that 
under  the  compact  the  right  of  withdrawal  was  never 
surrendered,  and  consequently  any  State  is  at  perfect 
liberty  to  withdraw  from  the  Union?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son,  many  very  learned  men  take  that 
position,  yet  I  think  they  are  wrong.  We  are  all  very 
apt  to  construe  an  instrument  to  accord  with  our  own 
desires,  hence  we  are  rarely  free  from  bias.  I  love  the 
Union  and  am  prejudiced  that  way.     I  do  not  believe 


S8  TOM    AND    JOE. 

that  you  can  anywhere  find  that  the  right  of  withdrawal 
was  reserved  to  the  States,  hence  it  must  have  been  sur- 
rendered for  the  mutual  good.  It  is  more  than  likely 
that  the  patriots  of  old  never  contemplated  such  a  state 
of  affairs  as  now  confronts  us 

"  But  suppose  we  grant  that  a  State  has  the  right  to 
secede,  I  still  hold  such  an  act  to  be  both  unwise  and 
inexpedient.  The  ximerican  Union  is  a  result  of  the 
loftiest  patriotism  and  the  sublimest  human  wisdom, 
but  if  that  Union  may  be  dissolved  at  the  pleasure  of 
one  of  the  contracting  parties,  then  it  is  a  stupendous 
monument  of  human  folly.  No,  my  children,  the 
founders  of  this  government  never  contemplated  any 
other  than  a  united  people.  Even  should  we  succeed 
in  this  mad  attempt  we  will  only  have  destroyed  the 
noblest  form  of  government  ever  devised  by  man.  No 
good  can  result  to  us,  nor  can  we  expect  any  degree  of 
permanency.  We  are  forming  a  Southern  Confederacy 
which  is  only  the  realization  of  a  political  dream,  but 
what  will  hold  these  States  together,  do  you  suppose  ? 
Texas,  Arkansas,  and  Missouri  will  form  a  confederacy 
west  of  the  Mississippi  river  in  less  than  ten  years,  and 
will  force  Western  Louisiana  to  go  with  them,  making 
a  boundary  of  the  great  river  and  looking  to  New  and 
Old  Mexico  for  more  territory.  Secession  will  prove  a 
contagious  disease. 

''What  is  there  to  hold  us  together  but  slavery? 
and  I  thank  God,  my  children,  that  this  curse  will 
soon  be  removed.  It  has  proven  a  terrible  misfor- 
tune to  us,  but  the  institution  is  surely  doomed.     How 


AN   ORIGINAL   UNION   MAN.  89 

can  it  stand  when  opposed  by  the  civilized  world? 
Every  relic  of  barbarism  is  rapidly  disappearing  in  the 
light  of  this  century,  and  human  slavery  must  go. 

"  Again  I  say,  secession  is  inexpedient,  because,  be  it 
never  so  lawful,  it  is  doomed  to  failure  should  tiio  gov- 
ernment undertake  to  coerce  us.  This  same  govern- 
ment which  is  ours  will,  since  we  disown  it,  backed  by 
the  powerful  North,  and  confronted  only  by  a  divided 
people,  compel  us  by  force  to  return  into  the  fold.  The 
boom  of  cannon  this  morning  at  Charleston  has  sounded 
our  death-knell,  and  as  Mr.  Stephens,  of  Georgia,  in  a 
wonderful  speech  recently  told  his  people,  we  shall  feel 
the  shock  of  contending  armies  and  all  the  wild  deso- 
lations of  war.  I  believe  his  to  be  a  prophecy — a 
prophecy  of  evil  indeed,  but  true  as  the  woes  foretold 
of  Jerusalem." 

"  So,  father,  you  think  the  Yankees  will  thrash  us, 
do  you?"  cried  Joe. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  they  will  if  they  try,  and  I  think  that 
after  to-day's  wild  work  they  will  try." 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  impulsive  boy,  "let  them 
try !  I  think  we  are  right,  and  we  will  make  each  hill- 
side a  battle-field  until  every  valley  is  a  graveyard." 

"Hurrah  for  Joe  and  the  Southern  Confederacy!  * 
shouted  Tom.  "  Let  us  start  for  Fort  Sumter  early  in 
the  morning,  Joe.  Father,  let  me  have  your  shotgun, 
and  Joe  can  take  the  rifle.  I'll  ride  Don  Pedro,  and  Joe 
can  ride  young  Buchanan,  so  we'll  be  cavalry.  Mother, 
I  wish  you  would  sew  some  red  stripes  on  my  pants  to- 
night, and  put  Dora's  new  ostrich  plume  m  my  hat." 


40  TOM   AND   JOE. 

"  Never  mind,  Tom — don't  get  in  too  big  a  hurry. 
If  you  go  off  to  the  war  who  will  drive  up  the  cows? 
We  cannot  spare  you  yet  awhile,  my  boy,  and  if  you  go 
off  with  such  a  rush  I  would  like  to  know  who  will  tie 
up  that  big  toe  that  you  knock  against  every  stump  in 
your  path." 

This  cpuel  cmt  was  from  mother,  and  reminded  Tom 
that  he  was  not  yet  a  dashing  cavalryman,  but  only  a 
small  boy  with  a  sore  toe.  That  night  Tom  dreamed 
that  he  led  a  great  cavalry  charge  against  Fort  Sum- 
ter and  fell  desperately  wounded  in  the  toe. 

There  was  not  much  sleeping  at  Belhaven  that  night, 
except  among  the  children,  and  we  doubt  not  that  all 
over  this  broad  land,  both  North  and  South,  good  men 
and  women,  were  unable  to  sleep  for  thinking  of  the 
dreadful  drama  upon  which  the  curtain  was  then  rising- 
Well  might  they  be  restless,  for  the  demon  was  un- 
loosed and  the  tempest  was  driving  on  that  w^ould  vex 
men's  souls,  and  wreck  the  fairest  hopes  of  many  a 
happy  home.  "  The  State  can  do  no  wrong,  and  I  must 
go  w^ith  my  State,"  sighed  the  good  old  Judge. 

The  next  morning,  under  a  pretense  of  going  hunt- 
ing, Joe  and  Tom  went  away  up  to  the  old  field  pasture 
and  practiced  at  long  range  with  the  rifle  upon  a  great 
oak  that  stood,  and  yet  stands,  on  the  hillside.  Twenty 
years  later,  Tom  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  old  oak  and 
looked,  w^th  tear-dimmed  ej^es,  upon  the  scars  of  that 
day's  marksmanship.  He  went  to  the  spot  where  our 
young  soldiers  stood  and  tried  to  see  the  target,  but  the 
wild  and  tangled  growth   had   sprung  up  as  dense  as 


AN  ORIGINAL  UNION  MAN.  41 

that  which  shuts  off  the  view  of  the  opposing  lines  in 
front  of  Petersburg.  As  the  tender  memory  of  those 
vanished  years  swept  over  him,  from  the  great  deep  of 
his  heart  came  this  plaint : 

"  Oh,  Joe,  Joe !  would  to  God  you  could  come  back 
to  me,  and  you  and  I  were  boys  again,  fighting  the 
mimic  w^ar  or  casting  our  lines  for  the  wary  trout.  And 
oh,  dear,  patriotic  old  father !  although  the  coffin-lid 
has  hidden  the  light  of  thine  earthly  crown  of  glory, 
thou  hast  a  crown  immortal." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

'' tiiey  marched  away  down  the  village 
street:' 

OUR  boys  never  went  fishing  together  again.  The 
^  bright  waters,  the  birds,  and  the  forest  wooed  them 
in  vain,  for  all  interest  now  centered  in  town.  There 
gaily  dressed  officers  were  persuading  the  young  men 
to  enlist  for  a  six  month's  term  in  the  army  then  being 
formed,  nor  indeed  was  any  persuasion  necessary. 
Never  in  the  history  of  war  did  men  respond  more 
cheerfully,  and  the  better  class  of  Southern  youths  in 
18G1  could  not  be  excelled  in  enthusiasm  and  deter- 
mined courage.  Filled  to  overflowing  with  the  wild 
spirit  of  adventure,  and  imbued  with  ideas  of  old-time 
chivalry,  they  hungered  for  renown.  The  best  blood 
of  the  land  was  on  fire  ;  tlie  pride  of  the  people  was  ap- 
pealed to  as  it  had  never  been  before,  and  every  college 
sent  forth  a  company.  The  young  men  of  wealth  and 
intelligence  enlisted  at  once,  all  fearing  lest  the  war 
should  end  ere  they  could  win  the  glory  that  would 
crown  them  heroes  in  after  life.  They  were  wild  with 
enthusiasm,  and  called  it  patriotism.  It  became  patri- 
otism later  on,  when,  with  heroic  fortitude  worthy  of 
success,  they  toiled  and  hungered,  suffered  and  died. 
One  of  the  most  pitiful  pictures  the  world  ever  beheld 

(42) 


THEY   MAKCHED    AWAY,  AC.     .  43 

was  the  suffering  and  death  of  those  noble  boys,  bat- 
tling for  a  political  idea,  and  glorifying  it  forever;  hal- 
lowing it  with  a  love  of  country  immortal  as  the  suffer- 
ings at  Valley  Forge.  We  believe  as  we  are  educated. 
They  fought  as  they  had  been  taught  from  the  cradle, 
and  made  heroic  history.  The  unvarnished  facts  of 
their  mighty  endeavor  compel  recognition  through  all 
the  ages,  and  criticism  is  disarmed  in  the  presence  of 
their  tremendous  struggle.  The  mounds  formed  over 
their  unknow^n  graves  have  long  ago  been  levelled  with 
the  earth,  and  many  of  those  who  w^aited  and  wept  for 
them  have  little  grass-covered  mounds  of  their  own — 
all  forgotten  by  the  busy  world.  Will  you  forget  them, 
oh,  suffering  Southland  I  Never,  never.  We  love  them 
for  their  heroic  lives  and  their  glorious  death.  We 
must  tell  our  children  the  story,  and  teach  them  to 
uncover  when  they  pass  the  lonely  grave  of  a  Confed- 
erate soldier. 

Our  two  boys  dropped  their  books,  neglected  the 
pigs,  ignored  the  cow^s,  and  bade  the  squirrels  w^ait 
until  the  frolic  w^as  over.  Tom  even  forgot  Robinson 
Crusoe,  and  left  him  scared  almost  to  death  over  the 
savage  track,  while  he  went  off  to  look  for  other  tracks 
which  were  beginning  to  impress  the  sand  upon  every 
shore — tracks  that  were  destined  to  mark  the  sweep  of 
desolation  all  over  the  fair  land  and  be  filled  wdth 
blood. 

Early  in  the  month  of  May  the  second  company  was 
being  formed  in  the  town  of  Clinton,  and  every  after- 
noon,  at   the   public    square,   the   band    would   play 


44  .  TOM    AND   JOE. 

patriotic  music,  then  impassioned  orators  would  take 
up  the  theme  and  paint,  in  beautiful  word-pictures,  tlie 
'•'  patli  of  glory."  Alas !  that  the  canvass  should 
shadow  tlie  grave !  One  day,  after  several  stirring 
talks  and  the  crash  of  warlike  music,  a  call  was  made 
for  volunteers.  Captain  Hargrove,  a  dignified,  sol- 
dierly-looking gentleman,  announced  that  he  held  a 
commission  authorizing  him  to  raise  a  company  in  that 
town,  and  that  he  was  ready  to  enroll  the  names  of  all 
who  felt  it  their  duty  to  arm  in  defence  of  their  native 
land.  He  told  the  assembled  crowd  that  the  war  was 
becoming  a  serious  thing,  and  whilst  the  call  was  made 
for  six  months  only,  the  probabilities  were  that  troops 
would  be  needed  longer.  He  stated,  further,  that  the 
indications  all  justified  the  belief  that  the  Federal 
Government  really  meant  to  coerce  the  seceded  States 
and  compel  their  return  into  the  Union. 

"Shall  we,"  said  the  speaker,  "remain  at  home 
in  ease  while  our  brethren  m  Virginia  are  stand- 
ing a  living  wall  against  the  invaders  ?  Can  it  be 
said  that  the  men  of  Louisiana  are  slow  to  meet  dan- 
ger? Will  they  shrink  from  the  path  to  glory  and 
honor?  Never!  never!  When  duty  calls,  no  true 
son  of  the  South  ever  yet  failed  to  go.  Every  heroic 
tradition  of  the  past,  and  ever}^  glorious  hope  for  the 
future,  appeals  to  us  in  the  voice  of  our  country  ;  then 
together  let  us  seek  the  foe  and  give  him  battle." 

A  mighty  shout  of  approval  greeted  the  words  of  the 
speaker,  and  on  that  day  the  "rebel  yell,"  destined  to 
electrify  the  fighting  spirits  of  all  future  ages,  was  born. 


THEY   MARCHED   AWAY,  <S:C.  45 

With  a  hurrah  the  boys  crowded  to  the  speaker's  stand 
and  gave  their  names  for  membership.  Eighty-seven 
noble  young  men  responded  to  the  call,  and  seventh 
upon  the  list  was  the  name  of  Joseph  Mabry.  Tom 
was  present  and  went  wild  with  enthusiasm.  He 
heard  the  thrilling  words,  such  as  he  had  read  in 
books  of  history ;  he  saw  floating  above  him  a  banner 
with  a  strange  new  device ;  he  saw  before  him  a  noble 
uniform  of  grey,  which  will  forever  symbolize  marvel- 
ous courage  and  heroic  endurance;  then  straightway 
he  forgot  the  old  banner  that  he  loved  and  became  a 
rebel.  When  he  sa  ^  Joe  go  forward  a  wild  impulse 
seized  him  to  go  and  be  a  soldier,  too.  The  impulse  of 
manhood  came  upon  him,  and  forgetting  the  cows  and 
pigs  that  were  awaiting  his  return  home  to  Belhaven, 
forgetting  the  hunting  and  fishing,  forgetting  father 
and  mother,  he  rushed  to  the  stand  and  begged  for  the 
privilege  of  going  with  Joe.  It  was  pathetic  to  hear 
him  plead  for  a  trial,  and  see  him  tiptoe  to  make 
believe  that  he  carried  the  stature  of  a  man. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  old  Major  Chatham,  a  vet- 
eran of  1812,  "are  our  babies  going  to  this  inhuman 
war?" 

Had  the  old  soldier  lived  to  the  end,  he  would 
have  seen  boyish  limbs  mangled  by  shot  and  shell, 
and  the"  seed-corn  of  the  Confederacy  "  buried  on  many 
a  bloody  hillside. 

Captain  Hargrove,  with  all  the  gentleness  of  a  father, 
put  his  hand  on  Tom's  shoulder  and  told  him  to  come 
around  to  his  office   when  the  meeting  adjourned  to 


46  TOM    AND   JOE. 

talk  the  matter  over.  The  boy  went  home  that  even- 
ing silent,  but  unconvinced.  It  took  an  awful  shock  to 
silence  him  in  those  days.  He  had  played,  hunted, 
fished,  worked  and  schooled  with  Joe,  nor  could  he  see 
any  just  cause  why  they  might  not  fight  together. 

Great  was  the  consternation  at  home  that  night 
when  they  learned  that  Joe  had  become  a  soldier. 
Father  and  mother  gave  their  consent,  although  he 
was  only  seventeen ;  but  Dora,  the  brown-eyed  sister 
next  in  age  to  Joe,  rebelled  and  vowed  she  would  do 
something  awful,  until  Tom  interfered  and  told  her 
that  in  case  she  seceded  from  the  family  he  would  be 
compelled  to  coerce  her  into  submission.  "Secession" 
and  "  coercion  "  were  household  words  at  that  time,  and 
our  Tom  was  just  the  boy  to  turn  the  most  solemn  text 
into  slang.  All  W5is  now  preparation  for  the  departure 
of  the  young  soldier.  There  were  so  many  things  to 
arrange,  and  so  many  busy  hands  to  assist  in  the  labor 
of  love ;  but  all  the  while  the  aged  father  went  about 
his  daily  affairs  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  he  knew  that 
his  darling  boy  was  going  away  to  endure  great  suffer- 
ing, and  may  be  to  die.  The  two  weeks  allowed  to 
make  ready  for  the  start  soon  sped,  and  now  on  the  day 
before  the  last  night  to  be  spent  at  home,  Joe  and  Tom 
walked  about  over  the  farm,  and  talked  of  the  happy 
past,  or  dwelt  upon  a  glowing  fuiure.  As  they  walked 
they  communed  as  only  two  loving  brothers  can. 

"I  must  go  back  into  thebig  pasture  once  more,  Tom, 
and  climb  again  into  the  great  mulberry  tree — they 
must  be  ripe  now — and  I  want  to  see  the  old  plum- 


47 

thicket  in  the  valley  of  the  sedge-fiold  once  more.  It 
is  getting  quite  warm,  and  I  should  enjoy  a  loll  under 
the  shade  of  the  three  large  sweetgums  that  stand  in  a 
clump  on  dead-horse  hill.  Suppose  we  go  by  and  see 
if  the  chinquapen  is  in  bloom,  and  we  can  try  our  skill 
in  jumping  across  Blackberry  run  just  below  the  water- 
gate,  as  we  used  to  do.  That  old  pasture  where  we 
have  loitered  so  often  picking  blackberries  and  search- 
ing for  the  cows  is  very  dear  to  me,  and  now  I  feel  that 
I  may  never  look  upon  it  again.  The  persimmon 
thicket,  where  we  caught  the  two  'possums  one  night 
last  fall,  and  that  queer  circle  of  cotton  woods,  must  be 
visited  before  I  go.  All  the  little  details  of  the  old  life, 
now  that  I  am  about  to  leave  it,  come  back  to  me,  Tom, 
witli  a  clearness  that  makes  me  wonder,  and  the  desire 
to  cling  to  them  is  almost  a  burden.  I  know  now  how 
the  poor  exile  must  feel  when  leaving  his  native  land 
forever.  And  Tom,  my  brother,  sometime  when  I  am 
gone,  when  I  am  ftir  away,  I  want  you  to  see  Jennie  and 
tell  her  that  I  could  not  bid  her  good-bye.  Tell  her 
that  I  shall  dream  of  her  by  the  camp-fires  and  in  the 
dread  day  of  battle  I  shall  prove  to  her  that  I  am  not 
a  coward.  She  thinks  that  I  am  faint-hearted  because 
I  refused  to  fight  John  Barton  last  February  at  the 
Valentine  party,  and  declares  that  she  will  never  smile 
on  me  again.  She  will  not  understand  my  motive  in 
refusing  to  fight,  but  some  day  I  trust  she  will  know 
me  better.  Tell  her  that  I  forgive  her  cruel  words,  and 
that  I  shall  love  her  even  unto  death,  believing  that 
she  will  be  sorry  when  she  appreciates  the  truth.     I 


48  TOM    AND    JOE. 

have  learned  in  the  last  twelve  months,  Tom,  that  God 
does  not  love  the  brawler  and  the  stirrer  up  of  strife, 
hence  I  cannot  fight  John  Barton,  on  my  own  account, 
unless  compelled.  You  know  that  I  am  not  afraid  of 
him,  and  you  recollect  well  that  I  thrashed  him  not 
long  since  on  your  behalf." 

Tom  promised,  but  he  was  not  satisfied.  "I  tell  you 
what,  Joe,  I  wouldn't  fret  about  Jennie,  with  her  snap- 
pish eyes  and  pretty  face.  She  is  awful  sweet  when 
she  wants  to  be,  but  she  ain't  half  good  enough  for  you. 
I  wouldn't  mind  about  giving  old  John  Barton  another 
walloping,  either,  if  I  w^ere  you.  Hang  me,  if  I  don't 
do  it  myself  when  I  get  a  little  older.  You  talk  about 
the  Bible  being  opposed  to  fighting  ;  why,  boy,  it's 
made  up  of  rows  and  battles,  and  I  find  the  book  of 
Kings  about  as  interesting  as  the  '  Conquest  of  Mex- 
ico,' or  the  history  of  Robert  Bruce.  Wasn't  Samson 
a  w^hale,  though  ?  But,  Joe,  I'll  tell  Jennie,  if  you  say 
so,  and  I'll  tell  her  that  when  you  come  back  a  colonel 
she  shan't  have  you.  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  that 
you  won't  notice  her  when  you  are  on  General  Beau- 
regard's staff." 

Tom  did  not  forget  Joe's  instructions,  and  we  are 
afraid  that  he  did  not  mend  matters  any.  His  inten- 
tions were  good,  and  he  championed  Joe  so  enthusias- 
tically, so  much  to  the  disparagement  of  the  young 
lady  herself,  that  he  almost  got  his  face  slapped  for  his 
pains. 

Until  late  afternoon  of  this  last  day  did  our  boys 
wander  about  the  plantation  and  visit  all  the  pleasant 


THEY   MARCHED   AWAY,  &C.  49 

spots.  Tbey  talked  and  communed  as  only  two  loving 
brothers  can,  and  Tom  made  a  world  of  promises  how 
he  would  care  for  young  Buchanan,  and  rub  him  down 
daily.  Six  months  later,  to  the  boy's  intense  disgust, 
the  good  pony  was  "pressed,"  and  became  the  property 
of  a  Confederate  cavalryman. 

Around  the  family  circle  the  members  all  lingered 
that  night,  until,  at  a  late  hour,  the  altar  was  erected, 
and  amid  the  tears  of  love  and  sorrow,  prayers  for  the 
young  soldier  went  up  beyond  the  stars  to  Him  who 
heareth  and  answereth  prayer  in  His  own  appointed 
way. 

Early  in  the  morning  Joe  was  up,  dressed  in  his 
smart  uniform,  and  ready  to  start.  Going  into  the 
sitting-room,  he  found  the  Judge  at  the  table,  leaning 
his  head  upon  his  hands,  apparently  just  as  he  was 
when  the  good-nights  were  said. 

"  Why,  father,  you  are  up  early — you  look  weary." 

"Yes,  my  son.  I  did  not  go  to  bed  at  all.  I  could 
not  sleep,  and  here  I  have  prayed  for  you  all  night." 

"  Oh,  my  father!"  was  all  Joe  could  say,  as  they  were 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms.  Other  farewells  were 
said  in  the  rooms  of  mother  and  sisters,  too  tender  for 
words,  then  came  the  old  family  servants  to  say  good- 
bye to  "Marse  Joe."  Uncle  Zeb,  the  foreman,  was 
spokesman  for  the  party,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
the  faithful  old  man  faltered  : 

"  May  de  Lord  God  A'mighty  bless  you,  Marse  Joe, 
an'  keep  you  in  de  holler  of  His  ban' I  You  is  been  a 
good  young  marster  to  us  all,  and  we  all  gwinter  miss 
3 


50  TOM    AND   JOE. 

you  when  you  gona  We  all  luv  you,  Marse  Joe,  an' 
we  gwinter  pray  fer  you  constant." 

"Good-bye, honey," sobbed  Aunt  Viney,"dese  old  arms 
dun  nussed  you  many  a  time.  Don't  forgit  your  'ligion, 
chile,  and  look  to  de  King  when  tribilations  come." 

Joe's  tears  flowed  afresh  as  he  bade  the  faithful 
negroes  farewell,  and  now  at  the  front  gate,  holding 
young  Buchanan,  ready  saddled,  w^as  Tom,  and  the 
boy  who  was  going  along  to  lead  the  horse  back. 

"IVe  tended  to  Buck  well  for  you,  Joe,  and  now  he 
is  all  ready.  Oh,  Joe,  Joe !  why  can't  I  go,  too  ?  All 
the  boys  are  going,  and  here  I  am  yet  a  baby.  They 
had  better  put  me  in  long  dresses  at  once,  and  feed  me 
out  of  a  bottle,  and  I  am  getting  so  long-legged,  too, 
that  I  am  ashamed  to  stay  at  home.  Why,  I'm  twelve 
years  old  now — next  year  I'll  be  thirteen,  and  I  bet  you 
a  thousand  dollars  I'll  go  then,  if  I  have  to  run  away ! 
Why,  Joe,  Andrew  Jackson  was  only  thirteen  years  old 
when  he  fought  in  the  battle  of  the  W^axhaws,  and 
everybody  is  proud  of  Lim.  He  w^as  an  orphan  and 
could  have  his  own  way ;  it  does  look  like  some  boys 
have  all  the  luck." 

Thus  wailed  Tom  at  being  compelled  to  remain  away 
from  the  wars — and  the  silly  boy  did  not  know  that 
there  were  numbers  of  men  who  would  have  given  a 
small  fortune  for  his  excuse. 

"  My  dear  Tom,  you  must  be  reasonable,"  answered 
Joe,  "and  you  must  listen  to  father.  Now,  I  w^ant  3^ou 
to  make  mo  one  last  promise — listen,  Tom,  and  promisei^ 
won't  you?" 


THEY   MARCHED    AWAY,  &0,  51 

"Yes,  dear  old  Joe,  yes,  yes.  Anything  for  your 
sake,"  answered  the  boy. 

"Well,  my  little  brother,  I  want  you  to  stay  at  home 
until  father  gives  you  permission  to  leave.  The  dear 
old  folks  will  need  you,  and  you  are  worth  more  to 
them  than  to  your  country." 

"  Oh,  Joe !  That  is  mighty  hard,  and  will  ruin  me 
forever,  for  they  never  will  consent,  and  I'll  be  called  a 
coward  or  a  stay-at-home.  Joe,  you  are  ruining  my 
life." 

"  Never  mind,  Tom.  It  is  mighty  hard  to  do  our 
duty  sometimes,  but  I  have  your  promise,  and  I  know 
you  will  keep  it — so,  good-bye,  my  own  brave  little 
brother ;  may  God  bless  you,  and  make  you  a  good 
man ! " 

There,  when  the  first  flush  of  sunrise  gilded  the  top 
of  the  mighty  beeches  in  front  of  Belhaven,  the  brothers 
parted,  and  never  sunrise' witnessed  parting  more  ten- 
der. In  a  perfect  tempest  of  grief  Tom  threw^  himself 
into  Joe's  arms,  and  clung  to  him  until  the  latter, 
gently  disengaging  himself,  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  slowly  down  the  avenue.  Tom  watched  him  until 
a  turn  in  the  road  hid  both  horse  and  rider,  then,  with 
a  passionate  longing  to  see  his  brother  once  more,  he 
ran  across  the  field  by  a  near  cut,  and  hiding  in  the 
sedge  by  the  old  negro  graveyard,  saw  Joe  ride  slowly 
past,  and  heard  his  clear  tenor  voice  singing: 

"  I  dream  of  Jennie,  and  my  heart  bows  low, 
Never  more  to  meet  her  where  the  wild  waters  flow." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  DEAD   ROLL    OF  SHILOH, 

T  T  7H0  can  tell  how  sad  and  lonesome  our  Tom  was 
when  the  farewells  had  been  said !  All  that  day, 
and  for  many  days  thereafter,  he'  wandered  about  the 
farm,  and  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something  he  could 
never  find  ;  nor  did  he  rouse  from  that  listless  condi- 
tion until  there  came  a  long  letter  from  Joe,  telling  all 
about  his  new  life  in  the  camp  of  instruction.  The 
company  had  been  incorporated  into  a  regiment,  and, 
with  many  others,  had  pitched  their  tents  for  a  short 
season  at  Camp  Moore,  in  the  pine  hills  of  eastern 
Louisiana.  Here  they  drilled  and  frolicked,  sang  and 
danced,  as  if  it  were  indeed  a  picnic — yet  all  the  while 
complaining  that  they  had  no  taste  of  war.  Oh ! 
could  they  have  foreseen  the  horrors  which  awaited 
them,  or  caught  but  one  glimpse  of  the  bloody  stream 
that  must  flow  until  all  the  land  was  in  mourning ! 
It  is  a  kindly  ordering  of  Providence  that  shuts  out 
the  future  from  our  knowdedge,  and  we  move  on  through 
life,  singing  for  very  joy,  until  suddenly  the  end  comes. 
Better  for  us  to  sing  and  carry  a  laughing  face,  with  a 
light  heart,  for  the  end  will  come,  be  we  sad  or  gay. 
The  man  who  laughs — we  mean  the  man  whose  laugh 
is  pleasant  and  natural — is  always  welcome.     Even  if 

(52) 


THE  DEAD  ROLL  OF  SHILOH.  53 

we  know  him  to  be  a  rascal,  we  to  a  certain  extent  for- 
give him  for  the  pleasure  he  bestows;  at  all  events,  we 
don't  cross  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  street  w^hen  we 
see  him  a  block  away. 

Tom's  parents  appealed  to  him  to  cheer  up,  and  take 
Joe's  place  on  the  farm.  The  poor  fellow  did  his  best, 
and,  assuming  the  duties  of  that  position,  his  old-time 
cheerfulness  returned;  he  became  manlier  and  more 
thoughtful,  was  more  considerate  of  others,  and  in 
short — this  assumption  of  responsibility  did  by  Tom  as 
it  does  by  nine  out  of  ten  boys — made  a  man  of  him. 
He  gave  up  going  barefooted  about  this  time,  although 
he  dearly  loved  a  freedom  from  the  tyranny  of  shoe 
leather,  and  he  avers  to  this  day  that  there  are  few 
pleasures  more  exquisite  than  making  barefoot  tracks 
in  the  newly-plowed  soil.  There  is  nothing  esthetic 
in  such  pleasures.     They  are  "  of  the  earth,  earthy." 

Our  young  man  did  not  quit  off  permanently, 
although  he  made  repeated  trials,  until  one  afternoon 
upon  a  neighborhood  road  he  w^as  suddenly  captured  by 
a  party  of  mischievous  girls  under  the  leadership  of  Jen- 
nie, who  badgered  him  unmercifully  until  his  barefeet 
were  almost  as  crimson  as  his  face.  The  girls  were  too 
lady-like  to  seem  to  notice  the  absence  of  Tom's  shoes  but 
he  missed  them,  and  w^ould  have  swapped  his  hopes  of 
being  a  soldier  for  a  pair  of  cavalry  boots — yes,  for 
even  a  home-made  brogan.  He  would  fain  have  called 
upon  the  pine  trees  to  fa.ll  on  him  and  hide  him  from 
those  exasperating  girls.  When  he  finally  escaped  and 
had  gotten  to  a  safe  distance  he  muttered — "  Confound 


54  TOM   AN-D   JOE. 

them !  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  they  won't  catch  me  in 
that  fix  any  more."     He  never  went  bare-footed  again. 

The  war  was  now  raging  in  earnest  and  soon  the 
whole  Southland  was  thrilled  with  news  of  tba  great 
victory  at  Manassas.  The  people  went  wild  with 
enthusiasm,  and  while  hundreds  of  families  were  bur- 
dened with  sorrow  for  their  loved  dead,  they  rejoiced 
that  those  loved  ones  fell  in  the  hour  of  triumph.  No 
words  can  depict  the  exultation  and  mad  joy  of  the 
entire  people.  Men  who  had  doubted  our  ability  to 
cope  w^ith  the  North  now  shouted  themselves  hoarse  in 
the  mighty  chorus  of  victory.  Well  for  the  brave  boys 
who  perished  at  Manassas  that  their  young  lives  went  out 
under  a  rising  sun,  while  the  birds  were  yet  singing 
and  no  thought  of  disaster  disturbed  the  dream  of 
empire.  Other  battles  were  fought  and  other  victories 
were  won,  but  never  again  were  the  Confederates  to 
steep  their  very  souls  in  triumph,  for  when  week  after 
week,  and  month  after  month,  the  armies  rushed 
against  each  other  with  stubborn  fury,  it  was  found 
that  the  people  of  the  North  were  fighting  with  a 
determination  that  no  disaster  could  appall.  When 
tliey  found  that^ninety  days'was  a  maddening  delusion, 
and  "  On  to  Richmond  "  the  death-knell  of  magnifi- 
cent armies,  they  went  to  work  to  win,  and  the  world 
witnessed  the  most  stupendous  struggle  of  modern 
times,  or  stood  aghast  while  brothers  tore  each  other's 
throats  with  the  ferocity  of  wild  beasts. 

Joe  went  off  to  the  army  of  Tennessee.  He  had 
been  under  fire  several  times,  but  his  first  banquet  of 


THE  DEAD  BOLL  OF  SHILOH.  55 

blood  was  on  that  memorable  Sunday  morning  at 
Shiloh.  How  they  broke  the  Federal  line  of  battle ; 
how  they  stormed  battery  after  battery;  how  they 
drove  the  enemy  pell-mell  to  the  bank  of  the  river ; 
how  their  great  leader  fell  in  the  hour  of  victory,  and 
how  a  halt  was  called  when  one  more  brave  rush 
would  have  secured  the  fruits  of  that  day's  carnage,  are 
all  matters  of  history.  We  shall  not  invade  its  sacred 
precincts.  The  solemn  facts  of  all  time  are  therein  re- 
corded, and  it  deals  only  with  public  men  or  things,  while 
our  story  tells  but  the  simple  lives  of  two  bo3^s  who 
loved  each  other,  and  did  their  duty  in  an  humble  way. 

When  the  news  came  that  the  Feliciana  boys  had 
been  in  a  great  battle  there  was  the  most  intense  excite- 
ment. The  scenes  witnessed  in  the  little  town  of  Clin- 
ton had  a  thousand  counterparts  all  over  the  North  and 
South  during  four  weary  years.  Loved  ones  waiting 
for  news  of  absent  loved  ones;  fathers  and  mothers 
anxious  about  a  soldier  son ;  a  wife  fearfully  listening 
for  the  truth  about  her  husband  ;  children  weepingand 
wondering  on  account  of  their  father;  the  maiden 
blushing  and  trembling  as  she  inquires  the  fate  of  her 
gallant  lover.  God  preserve  us  all  from  a  repetition 
of  such  scenes.     Once  in  a  lifetime  is  once  too  often. 

The  matter  was  now  coming  home  to  the  Feliciana 
people  and  they  crowded  into  town  to  learn  the  news. 
Tom  went  early  Tuesday  morning  anxious  to  learn  the 
fate  of  Joe  and  other  young  friends  who  were  known  to 
have  been  in  the  battle.  The  telegraph  office  was 
upstairs,  and  some  loud-voiced  man  stood  at  the  win- 


56  TOM   AND   JOE. 

dow,  a  living  bulletin-board,  to  let  the  people  hear  the 
messages  as  they  were  ticked  off.  The  street  was 
densely  packed  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  people, 
all  breathless  with  attention.  Suddenly  a  great  silence 
falls  upon  the  crowd  as  the  party  at  the  window  begins 
to  read.    Hush!    Listen! 

"A  great  battle!  Yankee  hirelings  routed!  Im- 
mense stores  captured  or  destroyed.  Glory  and  honor 
to  the  boys  in  grey." 

Thus  on  for  many  minutes  was  the  crowd  enter- 
tained, and,  as  one  wild  statement  followed  another, 
men  and  boys  broke  into  shouts.  A  hoarse  roar  of 
approval  swept  over  the  throng,  and  hurrah  followed 
hurrah,  but  this  was  only  the  orchestral  crash  before 
the  curtain  rose  upon  the  tragedy. 

Next  came  a  telegram  from  Colonel  Fisher,  giving  the 
details  that  appealed  directly  to  the  hearts  of  all  pres- 
ent.    It  read  as  follows : 

"Our  regiment  was  closely  engaged  in  the  fight  both 
Sunday  and  Monday,  and  our  boys  sustained  the  proud 
reputation  that  Louisianians  have  already  made  on  the 
battle-fields  of  Virginia.  They  were  among  the  first 
into  the  enemy's  camp  on  Sunday  morning,  and  fought 
with  honor  all  day.  During  the  bloody  conflict  of 
Monday  they  stood  like  veterans,  capturing  a  battery 
of  three  pieces  and  one  stand  of  colors.  I  am  sorry  to 
report  heavy  losses  both  in  killed  and  wounded.  We 
lost  twenty-seven  men  on  Sunday  and  fifty-three  dur- 
ing the  frightful  carnage  of  the  next  day.  Company  A 
lost  its  gallant  Captain  Hargrove,  who  was  shot  through 


THE  DEAD  ROLL  OP  SHILOH.  57 

the  head  within  twenty  yards  of  the  hattery  and  died 
instantly.  [A  voice  from  the  crowd,  '  God  rest  his  soul, 
for  he  was  a  noble  man.']  Sergeant  John  Holconib 
was  killed  early  Sunday,  and  brave  little  Willie  Man- 
son  fell  at  the  head  of  the  regiment  bearing  its  colors." 

There  was  a  faint,  sad  cry  heard  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  and  the  dead  boy's  sister  Alice  was 
carried  fainting  away.  Name  after  name  was  called 
among  the  dead  until  it  told  of  thirteen  of  the  home 
boys  who  would  never  come  back.  Tom  will  never 
forget  the  fearful  fascination  .of  that  voice  calling  the 
dead-roll  of  Shiloh.  Cry  after  cry  of  sorrow  and  pity 
arose  from  the  crowd  as  they  heard  some  well-known 
name  announced  among  the  slain. 

Poor  Martha  Willis  had  been  haunting  the  telegraph 
office  since  dawn,  waiting  with  heavy  heart  to  hear  from 
Robert,  and  now,  when  the  closing  words  of  the  report 
read  :  "Robert  Willis  was  mortally  wounded,  and  died 
Sunday  night,"  she  cried  in  her  agony:  "  Oh,  Robert, 
my  darling !  They  enticed  you  off  to  the  wars  with 
their  fine  words  about  patriotism,  and  now  you  are 
dead.  My  Robert,  dead  on  the  cruel  battle-field  and 
your  poor  wounded  face  without  a  coffin  !  How  can  I 
spare  you,  Robert?  Our  little  home  was  so  bright  and 
happy.     Oh,  Robert  I  Robert !  my  murdered  darling !" 

In  her  agony  the  poor  girl  forgot  that  her  husband 
was  responsible  for  his  own  acts  and  had  joined  the 
army  without  any  compulsion. 

Tom  heard  many  sad  things  that  day,  and  when  the 
reading  of  the  reports  was  over,  climbed  down  from  the 


58  TOM   AND   JOE. 

horse-rack,  where  he  had  taken  his  stand  to  see  and 
hear,  convinced  that  war  was  a  terrible  thing,  and 
happy  that  Joe's  name  was  not  upon  the  awful  list. 
Who  can  ever  forget  the  horrible  fascination  that  draws 
one  to  listen  to  the  dead-roll  of  a  battle,  especially 
when  a  loved  one  is  there  whose  fate  is  still  uncertain? 
Tom  went  home  dazed,  and  yet  longing  to  be  with  Joe — 
painfully  yearning  for  the  wild  revelry  of  battle.  He 
had  no  desire  to  kill  anybody,  and  he  never  dreamed 
of  being  killed.  His  heart  was  as  tender  as  a  girl's, 
and  no  suffering  chick  or  lamed  pig  but  appealed  suc- 
cessfully to  his  warmest  sympathies.  He  would  never 
wantonly  shoot  one  of  nature's  songsters,  and  would 
step  aside  lest  he  crushed  the  worm  in  his  path,  but 
there  arose  in  his  bosom  a  desire  to  do  some  startling 
and  heroic  thing,  such  as  capturing  a  gunboat  or  storm- 
ing a  battery.  Of  course,  he  expected  to  have  to  hew 
his  way,  with  a  good  saber,  through  crowded  columns 
of  Yankees,  and  doubtless  many  unfortunate  men 
would  perish  in  his  path,  yet,  without  one  blood- 
thirsty thought,  they  were  regarded  as  necessary  obsta- 
cles to  his  ambition  which  must  be  removed.  Tom 
was  yet  at  that  age  when  all  glory  and  honor  was  to 

be  laid  at  the  feet  of  father  and  mother,  but  later  on 

yes,  later  on,  we  shall  see  who  will  come  amid  the 
glories  and  flowers  of  spring-time,  to  take  the  measure 
of  his  boyish  heart  and  entangle  his  soul  amid  the 
meshes  of  her  sunny  hair.  We  shall  see  you  tremble 
with  happiness,  dear  Tom,  and  we  shall  feel  for  you 
when  the  waves  of  sorrow  roll  over  you,  wild  as  the 
sweep  of  an  ocean  tempest. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


GOODNIGHT, 


J]  FEW  years  prior  to  the  war,  there  came  into  the 
^  neighborhood  where  our  boys  lived  a  man  whose 
manner  was  so  different  from  the  ways  of  that  people 
that  he  became  at  once  an  object  of  interest,  and  of  no 
little  curiosity.  Of  gigantic  form,  and  carrying,  or 
rather  being  carried,  by  what  old  Uncle  Zeb  called  "de 
most  ongodliest  pair  o'  foots,"  he  was  a  source  of  end- 
less amusement  to  the  boys — of  ridicule,  also,  until 
they  learned  to  know  him.  His  face  was  a  true  index 
to  his  character — honest  and  kindly,  strong  and  deter- 
mined, yet  lacking  the  polish  of  the  higher  social  and 
intellectual  life,  and  his  dress  was  not  after  any  style 
that  was  ever  seen  in  the  drawing-room.  No  one  could 
ever  imagine  him  dressed  otherwise  than  in  copperas 
breeches  and  a  coat  of  dirty  brown.  If  he  ever  wore  a 
white  shirt  he  kept  the  f^ict  a  profound  secret.  It 
must  not  be  supposed  that  he  was  slovenly  in  his  dress, 
or  lacked  neatness  in  his  person.  On  the  contrary,  his 
clothing  was  kept  clean,  although  it  might  offend  the 
esthetic  eye,  and  his  hair,  while  long,  after  the  fashion 
of  those  days,  was  never  unkempt.  Clothes  do  not 
make  the  man,  but  there  are  some  styles  of  clothing 
and  men  that  are  inseparable. 

(59) 


60  TOM    AND   JOE. 

This  man  came  afoot  into  Louisiana,  carrying  a  little 
bundle,  and  upon  his  shoulder  a  very  long  small- 
bore rifle.  He  had  some  money  with  him,  but  there 
had  been  small  occasion  to  use  it,  for  in  those  days  a 
man  could  travel,  on  foot  or  horseback,  from  Texas  to 
Maryland  at  no  expense  for  living,  nor  was  he  regarded 
a  tramp,  and  expected  to  chop  stove-wood  for  his  break- 
fast. The  old-time  hospitality  of  the  South  was  such 
that  a  man  who  made  a  traveler  pay  for  a  night's  lodg- 
ing was  considered  stingy.  They  had  not  then  learned 
to  call  it  thrift,  and  to  refuse  to  entertain  the  stranger  was 
regarded  a  small  meanness.  It  would  be  a  little  hazard- 
ous now  to  attempt  such  a  trip  without  money,  and  the 
tramp  is  in  constant  danger  of  a  conflict  with  dogs. 

When  Caleb  Knight,  in  his  wanderings,  reached  the 
old  Jefford  place,  one  of  the  earliest  settlements,  which 
for  some  cause  had  been  abandoned,  he  found  there  a 
small  house  of  two  rooms,  which,  being  quite  habita- 
ble, seemed  to  suit  his  fancy,  and  without  any  cere- 
mony he  took  possession.  Being  expert  with  tools, 
which  he  was  able  to  borrow  from  the  carpenter  of  a 
neighboring  plantation,  lie  soon  made  such  repairs  as 
were  necessary,  and  rigged  up  such  articles  of  furniture 
as  were  requisite  to  his  modest  wants.  With  the 
judicious  expenditure  of  a  little  money,  he  procured 
a  supply  of  such  things  as  he  could  not  make,  getting 
them  hauled  out  from  town  by  a  kindly  darkey  who 
was  returning  with  an  empty  wagon. 

In  that  quiet  neighborhood  the  advent  of  a  stranger 
was  a  matter  of  considerable  speculation,  and,  as  we 


GOOD-NIGHT.  Gl 

have  stated,  the  neighbors  became  very  much  inter- 
ested in  this  man  ;  for  no  such  specimen  could  be  found 
from  "Possum  Corner,"  in  the  northwest,  to  "Pig 
Trot,"  in  the  extreme  southeastern  portion  of  the  par- 
ish. After  the  manner  of  the  old  Bible  stories  specula- 
tion begat  rumor,  rumor  begat  suspicion,  and  suspicion 
begat  report,  until  it  was  generally  supposed  that  this 
man  Caleb  was  a  bloody  Abolitionist  in  disguise,  for 
whom  a  rope  with  the  hangman's  knot  was  the  proper 
thing.  The  question  became  a  burning  one,  for  if  he 
w^ere  allowed  to  remain  who  knew  but  they  would  all 
"  wake  up  some  morning  and  find  themselves  dead  ; " 
so  it  came  about,  as  a  result  of  these  wild  rumors,  that 
within  ten  days  after  this  stranger  had  settled  himself 
he  was  waited  upon  by  a  committee  of  citizens  to 
inquire  into  his  business  and  intentions.  This  com- 
mittee had  been  selected  at  an  informal  meeting  held 
under  the  great  beech  tree  in  front  of  the  country  church, 
while  the  good  people  were  waiting  for  the  preaching 
hour  to  arrive,  and  was  composed  of  Colonel  DuPree, 
Judge  Mabry,  and  Major  Carter — a  very  dignified  and 
imposing  trio,  we  may  well  imagine,  and  well  calcula- 
ted to  make  any  evil-doer  tremble  in  his  shoes,  no  mat- 
ter how  large. 

Bright  and  early  on  Monday  morning  those  gentle- 
men met  as  agreed  at  the  cross-roads  and  proceeded  on 
their  errand  of  investigation.  They  felt  fully  as  impor- 
tant as  does  the  average  "Congressional  committee" 
when  venturing  now-a-days  into  the  untamed  South 
in  search  of  political  outrages,  and  probably  suffered 


62  TOM   AND   JOE. 

equal  trepidation,  but  they -went  forward  bravely  and 
soon  found  Caleb  seated  under  the  wide-spreading 
branches  of  a  mighty  oak  near  his  cottage,  very  busily 
engaged  in  making  a  cane  fish-trap.  Now  these  traps 
are  quite  simple  in  their  construction,  yet  requiring 
some  skill  to  make  properly,  and  when  carefully  placed 
in  the  creek  rarely  fail  to  reward  the  owner,  or  some 
poacher,  with  a  mess  of  perch  or  suckers.  They  are 
formed  of  the  long  reed  canes  that  grow  near  the  water, 
are  cylindrical  in  shape,  being  fastened  around  oak  or 
hickory  hoops  with  some  stringy  bark  for  wrapping 
twine,  and  one  end  is  left  open  with  a  funnel-shaped 
throat  through  which  the  fish  enter.  This  throat  is  so 
arranged  that  the  fish  can  pass  in  readily,  but  in  trying 
to  return  they  find  it  easier  to  pass  by  the  opening  than 
go  through  it. 

Eiding  up  to  the  spot  where  the  trap-builder  w^as 
seated,  Judge  Mabry,  who  was  spokesman  for  the  party, 
opened  the  momentous  discussion  by  saying :  "  Good 
morning,  Mr.  Knight."  Very  pleasantly  Caleb  responded 
to  this  tremendous  salutation : 

"Same  to  you  all,  gentulraen.  Git  down  and  let 
your  tackles  rest,  an'  we'll  git  a'quainted.  Powerful 
warm  for  so  soon  in  the  season,  an'  I  reckon  this  sum- 
mer's gwinter  be  a  regler  scorcher  in  this  hot  climit." 

The  committee,  seeing  that  their  man  was  not  slow 
to  talk,  dismounted,  and  found  comfortable  seats  in  the 
shade. 

"  Well,  gentulmen,  I'm  powerful  glad  to  see  you. 
Here  I've  been  for  two  weeks  an'  not  a  white  man  have 


GOOD-NIGHT.  63 

I  seed  except  now  an'  then  one  passing  along  the  big 
road.  I  like  good,  quiet  kind  of  people  who  'tends  to 
their  own  business,  and  I  like  to  live  away  out  here  in 
the  kuntry.  Lawd  help  me,  but  I  wouldn't  live  in 
town  for  no  inducements.  Why,  sir,  I  went  down  to 
Wilmington  away  yonder  last  summer  an'  I  aint  hardly 
got  over  it  yet,  sech  a  rattle  of  kyarts  an'  tootin  of  whis- 
sels  was  enuf  to  give  a  man  the  bline-staggers.  Unly 
stayed  there  two  days  when  I  lit  out  fer  the  mountins 
whar  I  camped  an'  hunted  fer  three  weeks,  jest  to  steddy 
my  nerves  like.  Did  either  of  you  men  ever  go  to 
Wilmington  ?  No  !  Well,  gentulmen,  that  is  a  town 
fer  you.  Sech  a  rale  tare-up  and  smash-out  noise,  an' 
hubbub,  and  hooraw  you  never  heard,  ceppen  you've 
been  through  a  saw-mill  in  full  tilt,  knocken  nots  an 
winshakes  right  an'  left.  Give  me  the  kuntry  every 
time,  an'  I'll  live  or  die'a-tryin'." 

It  looked  like  the  interviewers  had  caught  a  hungry 
parrot,  until  in  one  lucky  moment  Caleb  paused  a  little 
to  turn  his  trap  and  insert  a  fresh  piece  of  bark- warp, 
when  Judge  Mabry  rushed  to  the  charge: 

"  We  came  over  this  morning,  Mr.  Knight,  to  get 
acquainted  with  you  and  find  out  something  about  you. 
These  are  troublous  times  and  many  suspicious  stran- 
gers are  roaming  through  [the  country — some  as  ped- 
dlers, and  some  in  the  guise  of  book-agents.  We  wish 
to  locate  you  properly,  and  if  you  are  all  right  we  will 
make  it  very 'pleasant  for  you  " — ''An'  ef  I  aint  all  right, 
you  are  gwinter  make  it  hot  fer  me  I  reckon,"  inter- 
posed Caleb. 


64  TOM   AND  JOE. 

"Oh,  no  doubt  you  are  all  right,"  resumed  the 
Judge;  "but  I  should  judge  from  your  remarks  about 
Wilmington  that  you  are  from  that  section  of  the  coun- 
try— possibly  from  Pennsylvania." 

"  Whar's  that  you  say  I'm  frum  ?  Pen-Pen-Pensyl- 
vany  ?  Why,  doggone  my  skin,  that's  a  Yankee  State, 
an'  you  mean  to  let  on  that  I'm  a  Yankee,  do  you  ? 
Well,  I  kin  jess  nacherly  wallop  the  hindsights  off  of 
any  three  men  in  this  ole  allegater  State  what  sez  I'm 
frum  any  sech  a  kuntry.  I'm  from  the  free  State  of  ole 
North  Carliney,  I  am,  an'  I  dont  keer  who  knows  it.  I 
wus  born  only  about  twenty  steps  frum  the  blessed  old 
French  Broad  river,  an'  I  lived  for  thirty  years  whar 
I  could  be  in  a  swimmin  one  minit  an'  the  next  minit 
could  clime  up  nearer  to  Heaven  than  any  of  j^ou  will 
ever  git.  I'm  a  regler  tar-heel,  I  am,  an'  hevn't  hed 
my  hans  free  from  rossum  a  week  at  a  time,  fer  twenty 
years.  If  ever  I  go  back  on  the  ole  State  I  hope  that 
some  bigger  man  than  I  am  will  up  an'  call  me  a  Yankee 
peddler." 

Caleb  was  very  touchy  on  tlie  subject  of  his  nativity, 
and  had  that  native  Southern  antipathy  to  the  name 
"Yankee."  In  fact,  for  many  years  it  was  a  term  of 
reproach  that  was  a  deadly  insult  when  applied  to  one 
born  South,  and  must  be  atoned  for.  The  giant's 
wrath  was  aroused,  and,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  doubled 
his  mighty  fists  like  two  great  hams,  and  as^suming  an 
attitude  of  defiance,  invited  the  committee  to  "wade 
right  in  an'  git  mashed."  His  usually  passive  face 
was  lighted   with   pugilistic  fires,  and   his  immense 


GOOD-NIGHT.  65 

feet  were  planted  upon  the  earth  with  the  power  of 
Enceladus. 

Our  titled  gentlemen  were  all  alarmed  at  these  war- 
like demonstrations,  and  hastened  to  disclaim  any 
intentional  offense.  They  also  very  promptly  declined 
the  invitation  to  "  wade  in,"  and  Colonel  DuPree  inter- 
posed with : 

"  Why,  friend  Knight,  you  certainly  misunderstood 
the  Judge.  He  was  not  trying  to  make  game  of  you 
or  your  State.  There  are  two  Wilmingtons — one  in 
Delaware  and  the  other  in  North  Carolina.  Of  course, 
the  Delaware  town  doesn't  begin  to  compare  with  your 
North  Carolina  city — should  not  be  mentioned  during 
the  same  day — but  it's  a  rattling  good  town,  and  a 
man  needn't  be  ashamed  to  say  he  lived  there.  You 
may  rest  easy  on  the  Yankee  question,  my  good  man, 
for  no  one  with  a  half  an  eye  would  ever  charge  you 
with  such  nativity.  We  are  your  friends,  Mr.  Knight, 
and  you  may  depend  upon  us." 

"Well,  ser,"  replied  Caleb,  ''I  know'd  it  was  agin  rea- 
son for  sech  pleasant-faced  gentlemen  as  you  all  'pear 
to  be  to  poke  fun  at  a  poor  fellow  like  me,  much  less 
layin'  sech  charges  agin  me  as  bein'  a  Yankee,  but  when 
you  sed  I  wus  from  that  outlandish  country  with  the 
long  name  I  w^as  riled  all  of  a  sudden.  I'm  from  old 
North  Carliney,  I  am,  an'  I  don't  keer  who  know^s  it." 

"We  are  very  glad,  Mr.  Knight,  to  know  that  you 
are  from  the  noble  old.  State  of  North  Carolina,  the 
very  home  of  freedom  and  the  American  eagle,"  replied 
the  Judge.     "  I  am  from  South  Carolina,  myself,  and 


66  TOM   AND   JOE. 

am  proud  to  acknowledge  it.  I  had  the  honor  to  be 
present  on  that  memorable  occasion  wlien  the  famous 
remark  was  made  about  the  length  of  time  between 
drinks.  The  Governors  of  both  States  were  present,  but 
I  am  not  certain  wdiich  one  was  father  to  that  historic 
remark  ;  it  is  enough  to  know  that  the  time  didn't  grow 
any  longer.  I  never  drink,  and  did  not  personally 
applaud  the  sentiment,  but  most  of  those  present  con- 
sidered that  discussion  the  very  essence  of  eloquence." 

Caleb  looked  at  the  Judge  with  an  incredulous  smile 
upon  his  honest  face  and  remarked : 

"  Law,  law,  Jedge — if  you  could  jest  take  one  fair 
swig  of  the  mountin  dew  we  fabricates  up  in  the  hills 
of  ole  North  Carliney,  you  never  w^ould  draw  another 
sober  breath  w^hile  you  live — exceppen  you  wus  a  mighty 
strong  'terminated  man." 

The  party  had  settled  down  again  on  friendly  terms 
but  the  committeemen  were  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 
They  could  not  see  their  way  to  any  further  investiga- 
tion of  Caleb's  history  without  the  risk  of  another 
explosion,  and  in  fact  his  blunt  ways  with  quaint  hon- 
esty of  expression  had  impressed  them  favorably.  They 
realized  the  fact  that  they  had  stumbled  upon  a  char- 
acter different  from  anything  they  had  known.  They 
remained  seated  in  the  shade,  and  Major  Carter  com- 
mented upon  the  build  and  usefulness  of  fish-traps. 
He  told  how  his  son  Bob  had  brought  in  as  fine  a  mess 
of  goggle-eyed  perch  and  blue-cat,  "one  morning  last 
week"  as  he  had  ever  seen,  and  Colonel  DuPree  dis- 
cussed the  prospects  of  the  cotton  crop.     He  declared 


GOOD-NIGHT.  67 

that  the  young  plant  was  "growing  so  rapidly  these 
recent  warm  days"  that  he  should  put  a  dozen  hands 
to  chopping  out  the  blue-gum  field  the  next  morning. 
Judge  Mabry  said  that  his  son  Joe  had  killed  a  wild  gob- 
bler with  a  beard  ten  inches  long,  on  tlie  last  Saturday 
morning,  and  that  the  great  bird  was  so  fat  it  furnished 
its  own  grease  in  cooking.  When  the  committee  had 
all  spoken  they  seemed  to  be  at  their  wit's  end.  A 
good  alligator  story  or  a  twenty-one  rattled  rattlesnake 
would  have  been  a  godsend  to  the  party,  but  the  spirit 
of  anecdote  would  not  come  at  their  call,  and  conversa- 
tion began  to  fail. 

About  this  time  Caleb  finished  wrapping  the  trap 
and  came  to  their  relief  by  suddenly  springing  the 
question  which  had  brought  him  these  unexpected  vis- 
itors.    He  said : 

"I  calkerlate,  gentulmen,  that  I  can  guess  what 
brought  you  all  here  to-day,  and  I'm  gwinter  tell  you 
what  you  wanter  know,  so  as  to  save  your  feelins.  You 
wanter  find  out  whar  I  come  from  an'  about  what  I'm 
gwinter  do.  Well,  I've  told  you  I'm  from  ole  North 
Carliney,  an'  I  don't  keer  who  knows  it.  Jist  why  I  am 
here  is  what  you  don't  know,  an'  hev  been  too  perlite 
to  ax  me,  but  if  you  all  will  promise  me  not  to  talk  it 
'round  I'll  tell  you  what  made  me  skin  out  from  ole 
North  Carliney  and  live  here  in  a  style  unbecomin  enny 
white  man.  Shore  nuff  now,  gentulmen,  will  you  keep 
my  story?" 

The  committee  agreed,  and  assured  him  that  any 
statement  he  might  make  would  be  kept  inviolate. 


68  '  TOM    AND   JOE. 

"Very  well,  then,  gentulmen,  make  yourselves  easy 
on  that  log  an'  I'll  tell  you  how  come  you  see  me  here. 
I  don't  look  like  a  man  what  would  have  enny  luv 
trubbles,  do  I, Kernel?" 

"Why,"  responded  the  astonished  Colonel,  "I  am 
sure  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  full  in  love  as  well 
as  any  one  else.  You  are  not  more  than  thirty  years 
old,  and  any  man  of  your  age  is  liable  to  the  tender 
passion  if  he  meets  a  charming  girl.  I  have  known 
more  unlikely  cases  than  yours— old  white-headed  men 
sometimes  make  fools  of  themselves  about  women. 
You  are  big  enough  to  fall  in  love." 

"Now  you're  shoutin',  ole  boss!  (beg  your  pardon,) 
an'  enny  man  expressin'  sech  sound  doctrine  as  that  will 
do  to  go  on  a  camp  hunt.  You  are  my  friend,  Kernel, 
an'  you,  Jedge,  an'  you.  Major,  an'  I'm  your'n  to  count 
on  in  enny  part  of  the  mountins."  Here  he  gave  each 
one  of  his  visitors  a  tremendous  grip  of  the  hand  and 
continued  : 

"  As  I  was  gwinter  say,  I'm  from  old  North  Carliney, 
an'  I  don't  keer  who  knows  it.  I  left  there  kinder 
onexpected  like,  all  on  account  of  old  man  Warner's 
gal,  Susan,  but  she  was  the  notablest  gal  in  all  that 
kuntry  for  forty  miles,  up  and  down  the  French 
Broad,  an'  j^ou  know,  gentulmen,  that  is  the  purtiest 
river  that  ever  run  down  hill. 

"Ole  man  Warner — that's  Susan's  daddy — kep  the 
boss  still  of  the  mountins,  I  tell  you,  an'  it  wus  shore- 
nuf  whisky,  without  enny  'dulterations,  also,  gen-tul- 
men,  she  was  a  shore-nuf  gal,  without  enny  make-up. 


GOOD-NIGHT.  69 

Well,  ser,  I  kep  comp'ny  with  Susan  right  peart  all 
last  summer,  an'  on  until  tobacco-curing  time,  an'  it 
'peared  to  me  that  I  wus  jest  as  good  as  son-in-law  to 
the  old  man,  but  you  caint  always  tell.  Gals  is  awful 
oncertain,  an'  there's  no  knowin'  when  you've  got  'em. 
Sometimes,  even  when  the  preacher  has  tied  the  knot, 
an'  you  are  shore  you've  got  'em,  it  turns  out  that 
they've  got  you  instead.  One  night,  along  in  October, 
there  wus  a  big  party  over  on  the  creek  about  ten 
miles,  at  Jim  Whalley's,  an'  if  you'll  b'leeve  me,  gen- 
telmen,  that  gal  never  let  me  tech  her.  Whenever  I 
cum  nigh  her  she  wus  that  skittish  an'  scornful-like  I 
jest  went  away  an'  left  her,  but  she  danced  seven  sets 
with  a  red-complected  feller  named  Pete  Brownlow,  an' 
the  way  she  smiled  on  him  wus  plum  agrivatin'.  She 
would  look  so  pleased  whenever  he  cum  about  her  it 
made  me  mad,  an'  I  dubbled  up  my  lists  untel  they 
lied  the  cramps.  Oh !  I  tell  j^ou  I  wus  howlin'  mad, 
an'  about  midnight  I  Avent  home,  but  I  never  slep'  a 
wink.  I  walked  about  the  yard  for  a  hour  or  two,  an' 
then  I  climed  away  up  onto  a  big  rock  on  the  mount'in 
side,  where  I  looked  fust  up  to  the  stars  away  yonder 
in  the  hevens,  a-shinin'  an'  a-glitterin',  then  I  looked 
down  into  the  river,  where  it  sloshed  an'  tumbled  over 
the  rock.  The  stars  wus  a-shinin'  and  a-glitterin' 
down  there.  Gentulmen,  I  hed  murder  in  my  heart 
wheu  I  clim'ed  up  onto  that  rock,  for  I  know'd  that 
Pete  Brownlow  had  been  liein'  to  Susan  about  me,  but 
after  awhile  the  world  seemed  so  still  that  my  wrath 
settled  down,     The  ugly  spirit  left  me,  an'  I  felt  as  cam 


70  TOM    AND    JOE. 

as  if  there  warn't  a  gal  in  the  whole  universe  of  God. 
Kernel,  I  don't  see  how  any  man  can  go  out  under  the 
stars  at  night  an'  keep  ugly  things  in  his  heart — they 
seem  to  me  like  a  thousand  eyes  looking  me  right 
through  and  through. 

'*  Next  day  I  met  Pete  'gwine  up  the  road  toward  ole 
man  Warner's  house,  an  gentulmen,  the  devil  wus  in 
me  biggern  a  mule  in  less  time  'n  'twould  take  you  to 
say  *  scat.^  I  stopt  him  right  in  the  road  an  told  him  * 
he  hed  been  liein'to  Susan  about  me,  an'  I  wusgwinter 
wallop  the  very  gizzard  outen  him.  He  was  a  spunky 
fellow  an'  'sputed  it.  He  low'd  I  wus  only  jellus  because 
Susan  perferred  a  decent  sized  man  like  him  to  a  great 
overgrown  he-bar  like  me,  an'  he  sed  no  likely  young 
gal  like  Susan  could  luv  a  man  what  wore  number 
fourteen  boots.  I  know  I've  got  a  big  foot, but,  Kernel, 
do  you  think  that  ought  to  be  ennything  agin  a  man 
in  a  gal's  affections  ?  " 

*'  By  no  means, "  responded  the  Colonel ;  "  you  are 
a  very  large  man  and  a  small  foot  would  not  serve 
your  purposes,  besides,  only  silly  girls  and  sillier  boys 
worry  about  large  feet." 

"  Well,  gentulmen,"  resumed  Caleb,  "  the  devil  in  me 
got  bigger  an'  bigger  untel  I  coulder  mashed  Pete  right 
then  an'  thar,  so  I  told  him  to  prepare  his  feelens  for  the 
durndest  whoopin  that  enny  red-headed  man  ever  got. 
He  wern't  afraid,  not  one  bit,  but  he  low'd  I  wus  too  big 
for  him  an'  he  wouldn't  hev  no  fair  showin'  in  a  rough- 
and-tumble  rukus,  so  I  told  him  jest  to  tie  my  right- 
hand  behiue  my  buck  au'  let  the  row  begin.  Gentulmen, 


GOOD-NIGHT.  71 

you  bet  he  tied  it  tite,  an'  then  before  you  could  say 
^scat^  two  times  he  waltzed  around  in  front  of  me  an' 
hit  me  sech  a  dip  in  the  stumuck  that  I  couldn't  hear 
it  thunder  for  about  two  minits.  You  better  believe 
me  he  wus  a  wiry  fellow,  an'  that  active  that  I  had 
most  as  well  try  to  hit  a  weasel.  The  way  he  danced 
around  me  an'  hit  me  wus  a  caution  to  fools,  an'  I  begin 
to  think  that  maby  I  hed  made  a  fool  of  myself  shore- 
nuf  in  hitchin  up  my  best  arm,  but  bimeby  I  got  a 
chance  to  soc  him  one  with  my  left-fist,  an'  'ser,  he  went 
to  grass.  Did  you  ever  see  a  big  fox-squirrel  drap 
when  my  ole  rifle  speaks-out  ?  Gentulmen,  the  devil 
wus  in  me  awful  big  when  I  hit  Pete  that  lick,  but 
when  he  tumbled  over  the  bluff  that  skirts  that  moun- 
tin  road,  an'  I  heard  him  roll  down  shakin'  the  bushes 
an'  rattlin  the  rocks  as  he  went,  if  you  bleeve  me,  the 
old  devil  was  gone  in  a  minit !  I  believe  you  kin  skeer 
the  devil  outen  a  man  quickern  you  kin  preach  him  out, 
an'  when  you  take  fire  an'  brimstone  outen  the  here- 
after you  lose  your  grip  on  many  a  likely  young  church 
member." 

This  doctrine  of  Caleb's  is  yet  orthodox  with  most 
of  the  churches,  but  many  of  the  ministry  are  hid- 
ing it  away  on  a  shelf  alongside  that  awful  dogma 
of  "infant  damnation."  May  we  not  in  getting  rid 
of  a  future  hell  run  the  risk  of  finding  it  in  this 
life? 

"When  the  noise  of  Pete's  fallin'  hushed,"  said  Caleb, 
"I  felt  that  faint  and  sick-like  about  the  stumuck — 
worsen  when  he  hit  me  that  fust  lick,  but  I  run  round 


72  TOM    AND   JOE. 

to  a  little  cow-path  down  the  hill  an'  away  down 
towards  the  bottom  I  found  hiinlayin  there  pale-lookin 
and  still.  I  pulled  him  the  best  I  could  with  my  one 
hand  into  a  more  cumferbler  position,  then  I  brought 
sum  water  in  my  hat  frum  the  creek  an' poured  on  his 
face,  but  he  wouldn't  cum  to.  I  did  feel  so  bad  about 
it,  though  I  knowd  I  didn't  mean  to  kill  him  shore  nuf. 
I  hit  him  like  I  wus  gwinter  bust  him  plum  open  be- 
cause I  wus  mad,  but  now  I  wus  awful  sorry  ;  so  after 
a  while  when  I  could  see  there  wus  life  in  him  still,  I 
felt  easier  an'  concluded  to  git  some  help. 

"  I  lit  out  up  the  road  towards  ole  man  Warner's, 
which  was  the  nighest  house,  an'  on  the  way  I  met  lit- 
tle Si  Owens — he  wus  a  sort  of  a  half-fool  of  a  boy  an' 
didn't  have  no  sense — an'  I  got  him  to  cut  the  string 
that  belt  my  right  hand  so  I  wouldn't  appear  so  re- 
dickerlus  in  case  I  met  any  sensible  peepul.  If  you 
bleeve  me  the  little  fool  lafFed  an'  laffed  untel  I  felt  like 
slappin  the  seven  senses  outen  him,  but  I  didn't  do  it, 
an'  went  on  untel  I  struck  the  AVarner  gate.  The  first 
purson  I  seed  wus  Susan  a  settin  on  the  piazzer  doin 
sum  sorter  soin.  She  made  like  she  didn't  see  me  an' 
you  bet  that  riled  me,  so  I  up  an'  told  her  that  if  she 
would  go  down  there  jest  under  the  bluff  she  would 
find  her  luvey-duvey,Peetsy-weetsy,  a  layin  there  with 
his  whole  frame  onjinted.  You  see  the  devil  wus  a 
gitten  back  into  me  his  full  size,  an'  wus  rather  crowdin 
me,  so  I  didn't  keer  much  what  I  sed.  I  noticed  she 
turned  fust  mighty  red  an' then  mighty  white,  an' then 
she  got  red  agin  shore  nuf.     A  rale  mad  woman  gits 


GOOD-NIGHT.  73 

mighty  red  in  the  face  an'  don't  always  look  purty  as 
she  oughter. 

"Susan  fired  up  tremenjously  an' told  me  I  wus  a 
fool.  I  knowed  that  much  already,  so  I  warn't 
alarmed,  but  when  she  told  me  to  take  my  big  feet 
away  from  there,  or  let'  em  carry  me  off,  'fore  she  turned 
ole  Bulger  loose,  I  got  mad.  Gentulmen,  that  Bulger 
wus  a  awful  dog  an'  I  concluded  to  go,  but  as  I  backed 
off  from  the  gate  I  told  her  she  had  better  go  down 
with  sum  help  to  Pete,  an'  if  she  found  him  alive,  which 
warn't  likely,  tell  him  to  be  forever  keerful  how  he  run 
agin  the  fist  of  a  left-handed  man. 

"I  aint  seed  Susan  since,  an'  I  reckon  I  never  will  see 
her  enny  more,  but,  gentulmen,  she  wus  a  likely  young 
woman.  I  made  strate  home  from  thar,  got  my  rifle, 
a  few  close,  and  what  little  money  I  had,  and  struck 
out  towards  the  settin'  sun.  You  bleeve  me,  I've  walked 
over  a  power  of  country  since  last  October,  untel  now 
I  am  settled  down  here,  whar  I  mean  to  stay  if  my 
nabors  w^ll  let  me. 

"  Now,  sers,  you  know  about  all  I  can  tell  you,  an'  if 
you  aint  satisfied  I'll  jog  on." 

There  were  tears  in  the  poor  fellow's  eyes  when  he 
finished  his  story,  to  which  the  committee  had  listened 
with  unflagging  interest.  No  one  seeing  his  honest  face 
and  hearing  his  straightforward  way  of  telling  what 
causes  led  to  his  present  location  could  doubt  his  truth, 
and  when  our  friends  rode  away  they  agreed  that  there 
was  no  harm  in  him,  and  that  with  a  little  encourage- 
ment he  might  become  quite  a  useful  citizen. 
4 


74  TOM    AND    JOE. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  our  man  was  left  to  dwell 
in  peace,  and  many  little  useful  articles  were  added  to 
his  comfort.  The  Judge  gave  him  a  cow  and  calf,  and 
Colonel  DuPree  offered  him  a  pony  to  ride,  but  Caleb 
thanked  him,  saying  he  could  get  over  more  ground  in 
one  day  than  any  pony  outside  of  old  "  North  Carliney." 

"Ef  I  wus  to  try  to  ride  that  critter,"  he  mused, 
"when  I  straightened  out  my  legs  it  would  walk  right 
out  from  under  me,  an'  if  I  should  ride  it  one  hour 
I'd  hev  to  tote  it  the  next,  so  I  better  let  it  alone." 

He  soon  became  a  great  favorite  with  tlie  grown-up 
boys  of  the  neighborhood  and  many  were  the  hunting 
and  fishing  frolics  he  took  with  them;  but  for  a  camp 
hunt  Caleb  was  a  "whole  team,"  and  could  furnish 
more  genuine  amusement  around  the  fire  at  night  than 
a  whole  corps  of  minstrels.  He  could  sing  the  queerest 
songs  and  tell  the  funniest  stories  that  the  boys  had 
ever  heard,  nor  could  anybody  equal  him  in  undress- 
ing the  game  and  preparing  choice  bits  for  supper. 

If  the  boys  were  fond  of  Caleb  he  was  no  less  fond  of 
them,  and  our  Joe  seemed  to  be  his  especial  favorite. 
It  was  amusing  to  observe  the  intimacy  between  the 
bright  boy  of  fifteen  and  this  great  double-sized  man. 
The  contrast  was  not  greater  between  David  and  Mr. 
Micawber,  but  two  years  later  when  Joe  donned  the 
gray  uniform  he  had  attained  the  stature  of  a  man,  and 
people  who  knew  the  sterling  merit  of  each  ceased  to 
wonder  at  the  strange  companionship.  While  Caleb 
was  really  poor  as  regarded  property  and  education,  so 
great  was  his  moral  worth,  so  uncompromising  his 


GOOD-NIGHT.  75 

integrity,  and  so  utterly  was  he  devoid  of  sycophancy, 
or  any  species  of  servility,  that  his  companionable  pres- 
ence was  always  welcome  in  the  proudest  homes  of  the 
neighborhood.  His  uncouth  language  was  pardoned 
because  of  the  excellent  sense  he  always  displayed  in 
conversation.  The  girls  all  adored  him,  in  a  friendly 
way,  and  never  made  fun  of  him.  The  boys  counted 
on  him  always. 

He  had  some  peculiar  notions  about  the  negro  w^hich 
would  hardly  have  been  tolerated  in  another  person. 
One  day  Colonel  DuPree  offered  him  the  position  of 
overseer,  or  manager,  of  his  immense  plantation  at  a 
good  salary,  but  the  great-hearted  fellow  declined,  and 
gave  his  reasons  thus : 

"I  am  obleeged  to  you,  Kernel,  for  the  offer,  but  I 
caint  accept.  I  aint  the  right  sort  of  man,  an'  couldn't 
do  you  no  good.  I  never  wus  used  to  niggers  nohow, 
for  in  the  mountins  of  ole  North  Carliney  they  wus  skaser 
than  planners,  an'  I  don't  know  much  about  'em. 
Then  there's  another  thing — I  have  hyearn  that  to 
keep  a  nigger  strate  you've  got  to  whup  him.  I  aint 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  from  what  I've  seed  of  the  nig- 
ger that  he  needs  a  heap  of  whupin,  but  I  never  could 
have  the  heart  to  whup  a  purson  who  dasent  fite  back. 
I  don't  mind  wolloping  a  mean  white  man,  nor  a  mean 
nigger  nuther  if  so  be  he  specially  needs  it,  but  he  must 
have  a  fightin  chance." 

Caleb  had  unwittingly  told  the  story — how  shame- 
ful it  was  to  whip  a  poor  wretch  who  could  not  light 
back. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


HO  W  THE  OLD  HOME  DISAPPEARED. 

71 T  the  battle  of  Shiloh  our  Joe  was  conspicuous  for 
{£^  his  gallantry.  Not  that  he  was  braver  than  thou- 
sands of  heroic  men  on  that  tremendous  day,  but  when 
his  regiment  was  wavering  under  a  wasting  fire  of 
grape  and  canister  he  caught  up  the  standard  from  the 
dying  hand  of  little  Willie  Manson,  and  stopping  but 
for  a  word  of  cheer  to  the  noble  boy,  rushed  to  the  head 
of  the  column  and  encouraged  the  suffering  troop  to 
more  desperate  efforts.  For  this  act  \\q  was  promised 
promotion,  but  it  never  came  until  upon  many  a  bloody 
field  he  had  established  fully  his  right  to  advancement. 

Events  now  crowded  one  upon  another  with  fierce 
earnestness  until  during  the  hot  summer  of  18G3  we 
find  Joe  with  his  regiment  where  Johnston  fronted 
Grant  at  Mississippi's  capital.  He  was  getting  to  be  an 
old  soldier  now,  at  the  mature  age  of  nineteen,  and  had 
seen  enough  of  horrors  to  make  him  old  in  feeling  as 
well. 

By  some  strange  fate  our  young  soldier's  regiment 
was  in  line  in  the  yard  and  orchard  of  the  old  home, 
and  on  the  same  ground  where  his  boyhood  had  wit- 
nessed many  a  mimic  battle  of  boys,  Joe  was  now  to 
take  part  in  the  death  struggle  of  men. 

(76) 


HOW   THE   OLD   HOME    DISAPPEARED.  ll 

One  bright  morning  the  enemy  massed  a  powerful 
force  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  beyond  the  orchard — the 
same  wood  where  Joe  and  Tom  used  to  gather  hickory- 
nuts  or  chinquapins  in  the  autumn,  and  wild  jessa- 
mines, with  violets,  in  the  spring  time — and  under 
cover  of  a  tremendous  artillery  fire  prepared  to  assault 
the  Confederate  lines.  Battery  after  battery  joined  in 
the  mighty  duel,  and  as  the  heavy  sound  went  boom- 
ing down  the  Pearl  valley  the  timid  deer  sought  a 
deeper  covert  and  the  hungry  saurian  bellowed  his  defi- 
ance. Soon  the  sharp  rattle  of  musketry  in  front  told 
that  the  advance  was  hard  at  it.  Joe  was  near  the  old 
well-house  in  the  yard  waiting  with  anxious  determina- 
tion for  the  bloody  work  so  rapidly  approaching,  when 
scher-r-r-r,  crash !  and  a  twelve-pound  shell  broke 
through  the  wall  of  the  mansion  and  exploded  in  the 
little  corner  room  where  our  boys  used  to  sleep,  knock- 
ing it  into  ruins  and  shaking  the  house  from  roof  to 
collar.  Again  and  again  the  iron  destruction  burst 
ilirough  the  walls  until  the  dear  old  home  was  a  piti- 
ful ruin ;  then  as  the  flames  joined  in  the  work  of 
demolition  Joe  brushed  away  his  tears,  and  grasping 
his  musket  firmly,  turned  away  to  meet  the  coming  foe. 
Back  with  a  rush  came  the  skirmishers,  followed  by 
the  shouting  enemy,  and  as  they  reached  the  shelter 
of  their  own  lines  the  battle  joined  in  earnest.  A  per- 
fect flame  of  fire  swept  out  from  the  Confederate  front, 
piling  the  Federals  in  scores  along  the  edge  of  the 
orchard  and  for  a  moment  checking  their  advance — 
but  only  for  a  moment,  when  several  brave  officers 


78  TOM    AND    JOE. 

rushed  to  the  front,  sword  in  hand,  and  encouraging 
the  men  by  word  or  example,  the  entire  body,  save  the 
dead  and  dying,  swept  grandly  forward.  But  they 
rushed  only  to  destruction  as  those  terrible  volleys  suc- 
cessively broke  their  ranks,  and  ere  they  could  reform 
the  Confederates  were  upon  them  with  the  bayonet, 
completing  the  ruin  of  that  splendid  column  which 
emerged  from  the  woods  so  gallantly  a  few  minutes 
before. 

Thus  did  Joe  see  the  last  of  the  old  home,  and  thus 
did  he  help  avenge  its  destruction.  He  bore  himself 
with  more  than  usual  courage  that  morning  and  never 
knew  how  proud  his  homefolks  were  when  they  read 
in  the  report  of  the  battle :  *'  Sergeant  Joseph  Mabry, 
for  conspicuous  gallantry  in  capturing  a  stand  of  colors, 
is  recommended  for  promotion" — nor  was  his  modest 
demeanor  changed  when  he  assumed  the  duties  of  first 
lieutenant. 

Jennie  read  the  report  in  her  far-away  home  and 
wondered  if  her  woman's  judgment  had  not  erred  in 
ascribing  Joe's  conduct  in  the  valentine  party  episode 
to  a  lack  of  courage,  instead  of  a  courage  more  sublime 
than  that  age  could  appreciate. 

The  wave  of  war  had  brought  Joe  back  to  within 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  Bclhaven,but  bore  him 
as  swiftly  away ;  then  came  more  long  marches,  and 
heroic  fighting,  until  two  months  later  we  find  him 
still  clinging  to  his  musket  all  through  two  dreadful 
days  at  Chickamauga.  Here  he  did  his  duty  with  all 
the   headlonor  valor   of  his   ancestor  who  rode  with 


HOW   THE   OLD    HOME   DISAPPEARED.  79 

Marion  one  hundred  years  ago.  Overwhelming  vic- 
tory remained  with  the  Confederates,  but  the  fearful 
loss  of  life  was  a  blow  they  felt  unto  the  end.  Such 
determined  courage  was  never  surpassed  on  any  field, 
and  the  soldiers  of  both  armies  had  no  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  their  prowess.  It  was  a  rare  thing  in  those 
old  days  for  either  army  to  Sad  out  the  exact  time 
when  it  was  whipped,  and  a  great  battle  was  generally 
a  series  of  charges  and  counter  charges,  of  flight  and 
pursuit  for  a  mile  or  more,  then  the  pursuer  in  turn 
put  to  flight  and  followed  back  over  the  same  ground. 
These  things  generally  lasted  a  day  or  two,  and  occa- 
sionally for  several  days,  when  the  two  armies  would 
settle  down  for  a  few  weeks  while  the  pickets  would 
pop  away  at  each  other,  or  swap  coffee  for  tobacco. 

Joe  had  been  in  many  battles,  and,  while  sometimes 
meeting  with  reverses,  the  army  had  suffered  no  total 
defeat,  but  the  day  was  rapidly  approaching  when  it 
was  to  be  overwhelmed  and  driven  from  its  chosen 
position  in  front  of  Chattanooga  by  the  veterans  of 
Thomas  and  Grant.  Never,  in  all  the  annals  of  the 
war,  were  the  Confederates  so  completely  routed,  and 
that,  too,  when  they  were  exulting  in  the  hope  that  they 
were  about  to  complete  the  work  so  bravely  begun  at 
Chickamauga.  The  Army  of  Tennessee  had  now  to 
cope  with  their  old  enemy  whom  they  had  whipped  at 
Shiloh,  but  who  came  in  front  of  them  here  with  the 
proud  new  title,  "Conqueror  of  Vicksburg."  There 
was  a  fearful  conflict  at  Missionar}^  Eidge,but  the  Con- 
federates fought  as  soldiers  always  fight  when  they  find 


80  TOM    AND    JOE. 

themselves  outgeneraled.  Military  criticism  is  unavail- 
ing. We  must  accept  the  verdict  of  history  and  ac- 
knowledge a  crushing  defeat  where  we  had  been  look- 
ing for  an  overwhelming  triumph. 

Joe's  regiment  held  its  ground  until  bayonets  were 
clashing  in  front,  and  a  blue  column  was  sweeping 
around  on  the  flank;  thdh  came  the  supreme  moment 
when  a  soldier  must  determine  to  die  at  his  post,  or 
take  such  action  as  will  enable  him  to — 

"  Live  to  fight  another  day." 

It  is  very  easy  to  talk  about  dying  heroically  in  front 
of  battle,  thereby  gaining  much  immediate  praise  and 
straightway  be  forgotten,  but  to  the  average  man  it 
seems  quite  uncomfortable  and  foolish — especially  is 
this  so  when  no  personal  or  public  good  can  be  accom- 
plished by  martyrdom.  Robert  Lee  and  his  worn-out 
veterans  retreating  to  Appomattox  form  the  sublimest 
picture  of  any  age. 

To  be  a  hero  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  a  sol- 
dier should  never  show  his  back  to  the  foe.  Sometimes 
it  is  very  prudent  and  eminently  proper  to  do  so,  and, 
in  these  days  of  long-range  rifles,  you  want  to  make 
the  display  at  a  great  distance.  The  day  for  dying 
merely  to  prove  your  courage  is  past — it  sometimes 
requires  more  courage  to  live. 

Joe  fought  as  he  always  did,  even  when  a  school-boy, 
with  his  whole  soul  put  into  his  work.  When  the  Con- 
federate line  was  broken  he  clubbed  his  musket,  and, 
whirling  it  about  him  with  tremendous  fury,  knocked 


HOW   THE   OLD    HOME   DISAPPEARED.  81 

aside  more  than  one  advancing  bayonet.  Slowly  he 
gave  back  before  the  advancing  foe ;  the  stock  of  his 
musket  was  soon  broken,  and  upon  one  knee  trying  to 
parry  the  thrust  of  a  half  score  of  bayonets,  he  thought 
that  for  him  the  supreme  moment  had  indeed  arrived. 
Can  nothing  save  him?  Must  the  brave  boy  perish  in 
the  hour  of  defeat  ? 

Even  as  a  gallant  Federal  officer  sprang  to  protect 
him  from  the  steel  of  the  soldiers,  there  came  a  ringing 
crash  as  when  a  mighty  hammer  strikes  the  anvil  and 
shattered  muskets  are  hurled  to  the  earth.  The  blue 
line  is  for  a  moment  broken,  a  strong  hand  grasps  Joe's 
arm,  and  a  familiar  voice  shouts  in  his  ear:  "Let's  git 
away  from  here,  Joe!"  The  stroke  that  parried  the 
vengeful  bayonets  w^as  from  the  powerful  arm  of  Caleb 
Knight,  wielding  the  barrel  of  a  broken  rifle,  and  the 
friendly  voice  was  his.  Then  was  seen  some  "tall 
running"  as  Joe  and  Caleb  sped  down  that  fatal  hill- 
side and  joined  their  comrades  in  a  sullen  stand  that 
checked  the  career  of  the  victors,  and  inspired  with 
new  courage  the  defeated  army  of  Bragg.  Without 
the  timely  help  of  Caleb  our  Joe  would  have  been 
killed,  or  taken  prisoner,  but  let  us  see  how  the  giant 
North  Carolinian  came  so  opportunely. 

We  have  shown  how  in  hunting  and  fishing  frolics 
Caleb  had  become  much  attached  to  our  young  soldier, 
and  when  Joe  joined  Captain  Hargrove's  company,  he 
was  present  but  could  not  be  induced  to  become  a 
member.  He  had  his  own  peculiar  notions  about  the 
war,  and  some  of  them  were  shared  by  a  large  propor- 


82  TOM    AND   JOE. 

tion  of  the  non-slaveholding  element  cf  the  South. 
Many  persons,  like  Judge  jNhibry,  opposed  secession, 
but  yielded  to  the  force  of  events  and  gave  their  alle- 
giance to  the  State,  and  finally  to  the  Confederacy. 
Others  considered  the  claims  of  the  Union  stronger 
than  the  rights  of  the  individual  States,  and  many  of 
these  found  it  extremely  uncomfortable  to  remain  in 
the  South — justly  so,  too,  in  most  instances.  There 
were  yet  other  thousands  who  entered  the  Federal 
army  and  fought  against  their  old-time  neighbors.  It 
was  the  old  story  of  a  house  divided  and  not  able  to 
stand. 

Caleb  often  visited  at  Judge  Mabry's,  and  feeling 
himself  welcome  would  drop  in  at  any  time,  bringing 
a  string  of  fish  or  a  bag  of  squirrels,  and  occasionally 
an  old  king  gobbler  whose  beard  trailed  the  ground. 
On  account  of  his  excellent  qualities  the  boys  called 
him  "Goodnight" — a  name  bestowed  upon  him  by 
Joe,  and  which  stuck  to  him  ever  afterwards.  He 
rather  liked  the  name,  so  we  shall  try  to  remember  the 
fact  as  we  go  on.  After  Joe  w^ent  off  to  the  army,  he  used 
to  come  over  to  the  Judge's  quite  often  to  make  inquiries, 
and  would  always  have  some  pleasant  word  to  send. 

One  afternoon  near  the  end  of  ^lay,  when  all  the 
family  were  seated  on  the  front  gallery  discussing  events 
and  speculating  on  the  future,  the  Judge  asked  Good- 
night to  tell  him  why  he  opi^osed  the  war  and  would 
not  become  a  soldier? 

"Well,  Jedge,"  responded  the  giant,  "I  ain't  seed  no 
occasion  for  it  yet.     The  United  States  is  gooder  nuf 


HOW   THE   OLD   HOME   DISAPPEARED.  83 

fer  me."  "That's  just  what  I  said  at  first,"  interposed 
Tom,  "but  I'm  converted  now,  and  I'll  bet  a  thousand 
dollars  you  are  a  rebel  in  less  than  a  month." 

**Tom,  I  seed  a  fox-squirrel  in  that  big  hickory  down 
at  the  corner  as  I  cum  up  the  road.  Hadn't  you  better 
go  shoot  it?"  Then  Goodnight  resumed  his  statement: 
"Ole  North  Carliney  wus  the  first  to  start  the  family  a 
long  time  ago,  so  I  don't  yit  feel  no  call  to  break  up 
the  arrangement.  I  like  to  know  what  I'm  fiten  about 
and  then  I  kin  peel  off  my  coat  and  wade  rite  in  fer 
who  last  the  longest.  We  poor  folks  think  it's  all  a 
rich  man's  war,  an'  onless  we  seed  the  good  reason  fer 
it,  we  don't  take  no  stock  in  it.  I  spose  if  we  had  lots 
of  niggers,  like  Kernel  DuPree,  an'  tothers  who  are 
gitten  the  row  a  goin,  we  mout  look  at  it  differnt,  but 
we  ain't  got  the  niggers,  and  we  ain't  gwinter  fite  fer 
'em.  Didn't  you  never  notice,  Jedge,  that  most  people 
think  like  it  pays  'em  to  think?" 

" Look  here,  Goodnight,"  responded  the  Judge,  "if 
the  Yankees  send  down  their  soldiers  and  undertake 
to  destroy  our  property,  or  take  aw^ay  our  liberties, 
what  are  you  going  to  do?  You  know  I  was  a  Union  man, 
and  am  one  still  if  matters  can  be  arranged,  but  if  we  are 
invaded — and  such  seems  to  be  the  case  in  Virginia — 
I  am  for  fight,  no  matter  how  much  I  love  our  common 
country.  Now,  sir,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  You 
must  take  one  side  or  the  other,  for  there  will  be  no 
neutral  position  in  this  war." 

"Well,  now,  Jedge,  you  looker  here  yourself.  You 
are  a  pinin'  me  down  mighty  close,  an'  you  are  a  ser- 


84  TOM  AND  joe:. 

posin'  things,  but,  gentulmen,  if  the  wust  comes  to  the 
wust  I'm  gwinter  fite  uv  course,  an'  I'll  jest  bump  the 
head  of  the  first  Yanll^e  I  find,  be  he  peddler  or  soldier. 
Ole  North  Carliney  aint't  serceded  yit,  an'  I'm  gwinter 
wait  to  see  what  she'll  do,  but  3^ou  may  load  it  into 
your  rifle  an'  shoot  it  into  a  tree,  that  ef  ole  North  Car- 
liney sercedes,  I'll  sercede  too." 

A  burst  of  applause  from  the  family  followed  this  last 
speech,  and  Tom,  turning  a  half  dozen  hand-springs  on 
the  front  walk, cried :  "  Hurrah  for  old  Goodnight  I  The 
Yankees  might  as  well  give  up.  Won't  we  make  them 
skeedaddle?      Goodnight,  you  are  a  regular  whizzer  !" 

*' What  is  a  whizzer,  Tom  ?"  asked  his  mother. 

"A  whizzer,  mother?     Oh,  pshaw!    A  whizzer  is  a 

is  a a  whizzer  is  a  fellow  who  makes  things 

whiz," — then  the  Judge  told  Tom  he  thought  that  would 
be  sufficient  for  one  afternoon  and  he  had  better  go  for 
the  cows. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  the  pressure  of  events 
was  so  great  that  North  Carolina  did  "sercede,"  and  as 
soon  as  he  heard  the  news  Goodnight  came  over  and 
told  the  Judge  that  he  had  "serceded,  too,"  and  was 
going  off  to  join  the  army  and  take  care  of  Joe. 
He  put  in  an  appearance  at  regimental  headquarters 
while  the  army  was  resting  near  Corinth,  and  told 
Colonel  Fisher  that  he  wanted  to  be  with  the  Feliciana 
boys  and  take  a  hand  in  any  fighting  that  might 
occur;  but  he  declined  to  submit  to  regular  duty  as  a 
soldier.  He  said  he  wanted  to  "skrimmage  around" 
on  his  ow^n  responsibility,  and   that  if  any  Yankee 


HOW   THE   OLD    HOME    DISAPPEARED.  85 

fooled  with  him  somebody  would  get  hurt.  The  Colo- 
nel informed  him  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  him 
to  be  regularly  enrolled  in  the  service  if  he  desired  to 
be  treated  as  a  prisoner  of  war  in  the  event  of  his  cap- 
ture by  the  enemy,  and  also  if  he  wished  to  draw 
rations  or  pay.  This  was  rather  a  mountain  in  his 
way,  but  when  the  boys  of  Captain  Hargrove's  com- 
pany, including  his  friend  Joe  Mabry,  testified  to  Good- 
night's  excellent  character  and  his  marvelous  skill  with 
the  rifle,  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  become  a 
member  of  that  company,  but  have  a  roving  commis- 
sion as  scout  with  permission  to  come  and  go  as  he 
pleased.  This  suited  him  exactly,  and  he  made  him- 
self very  much  at  home  about  Joe's  mess  where  he  was 
always  welcome.  One  of  the  few  long  range  rifles  in 
the  Confederate  service  was  secured  for  him,  and  he 
promised  to  "  make  it  airn  its  feed,"  nor  have  we  any 
reason  to  doubt  that  he  kept  his  promise.  At  Shiloh 
lie  was  in  the  skirmish  line;  at  Murfreesboro  he  brought 
in  a  couple  of  prisoners;  at  Chickamauga  he  was  com- 
plimented for  bringing  down  a  gallant  Federal  field 
officer  at  nearly  eight  hundred  yards,  and  now  at  Mis- 
sionary Ridge  we  find  him  with  a  broken  rifle  bring- 
ing up  the  rear  of  the  Confederate  army,  and  lamenting 
that  his  pet  weapon  was  forever  ruined.  The  spoils  of 
war  from  many  a  bloody  field  enabled  the  authorities 
to  readily  replace  the  lost  gun  with  a  better,  and  Good- 
night was  off  as  a  scout  once  more. 

General  Grant  was  not  the  man  to  neglect  following 
up  an  advantage.     He  put  everything  in  order,  and 


86  TOM    AND    JOE. 

tlien  leaving  his  able  lieutenant  to  press  the  mighty 
struggle  wii-li  Johnston,  who  had  succeeded  Bragg,  he 
flew  to  Virginia  to  match  arms  with  that  incomparable 
leader,  the  heroic  Robert  E.  Lee.  Thither  our  story 
shall  follow  him — or  rather  meet  him,  for  it  seemed  to 
be  the  fortune  of  our  young  soldier  to  co[)e  in  an  hum- 
ble way  with  one  of  the  foremost  warriors  of  modern 
times.  ♦ 

In  the  latter  part  of  April,  1864,  Lieutenant  Joseph 
Mabry,  through  the  influence  of  Colonel  Da  Free,  who 
now  held  an  important  position  in  the  "War  Department 
at  Richmond,  was  transferred  to  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia.  It  was  hard  for  Joe  to  leave  his  old  com- 
rades, but  most  of  the  bo3's  wnth  whom  he  had  been 
intimate  had  perished  on  the  field,  or  were  fretting 
away  their  lives  in  prison,  so  there  were  but  few  to 
leave.  Our  w^orthy  scout  obtained  leave  to  go  with 
Joe,  and  together  they  reported  for  duty  just  as  the 
last  tremendous  thunders  of  the  Wilderness  were  toll- 
ing the  requiem  of  twenty  thousand  dead  Americans. 
In  the  latter  days  of  the  war  the  soldiers  were  not  con- 
sulted as  to  their  choice  of  oflicers,  and  Joe  was  as- 
signed to  duty  as  lieutenant  in  a  Georgia  regiment, 
lie  soon  won  the  regard  of  his  men  by  his  considerate 
manner  and  never-failing  courage.  Amid  the  awful 
carnage  of  Spotsylvania  he  endeared  himself  to  those 
brave  fellows  forever,  and,  upon  the  death  of  its  captain, 
succeeded  to  the  command  of  the  company. 

It  is  not  our  province  to  record  that  gigantic  strug- 
gle from  the  Wilderness  to  Petersburg;  how  the  great 


HOW    THE   OLD    HOME    DISAPPEARED.  87 

combatants  writhed  back  and  forth  in  the  grapple 
of  death  until  the  blood  of  seventy  thousand  heroes 
watered  the  hills  and  valleys  around  Eichmond,  but  it 
is  enough  that  we  follow  our  Joe  through  those  dread- 
ful weeks  and  months,  when  ten  thousand  fell  at  his 
right  hand,  and  the  darts  of  the  grim  Terror  showered 
about  him  like  hailstones  from  a  summer  cloud.  He 
went  about  his  duties  with  no  rest  from  marching  and 
fighting,  but  amid  all  those  scenes  of  blood  his  tender 
heart  never  hardened  and  his  lofty  purpose  never 
weakened. 

Goodnight  was  ever  on  the  scout,  and  so  careful  was 
his  investigation,  so  sound  his  conclusions,  that  Gene- 
ral Lee  often  sent  the  brave  fellow  to  brins:  him  certain 
news  of  the  movements  of  some  column  of  the  enemy. 
lie  was  often  at  the  tent  of  the  commander,  but  he 
always  felt  that  he  was  in  a  superior  presence,  and 
would  lift  his  hat  while  yet  twenty  yards  away.  No 
danger  could  appal  our  scout,  and  his  simple  heart  felt 
no  dictates  save  those  of  stern,  unflinching  duty.  He 
aimed  his  deadly  rifle  with  no  desire  for  blood,  but 
simply  as  a  matter  of  patriotic  duty,  and  always  with 
a  mental  prayer  that  his  enemy  might  "die  easy." 


CPIAPTER  X. 


CHRISTMAS,  18G4. 


OENERAL  LEE  made  his  last  tremendous  struggle 
^^for  the  dying  Confederacy  during  nine  eventful 
months  in  front  of  Petersburg,  and  there  day  after  day 
his  gallant  soldiers  perished  around  him.  With  an 
endurance  both  heroic  and  pathetic  they  bared  their 
breasts  to  an  overwhelming  enemy,  and  grew  haggard 
under  the  insidious  approaches  of  another  enemy  more 
powerful  than  the  legions  of  Grant ;  they  slowly  starved 
as  they  fought.  For  weeks  at  a  time  there  was  the 
most  desperate  struggle  as  the  Federal  leader  vainly 
tried  to  break  the  line  of  defence  ;  then  would 
come  a  season  of  comparative  repose,  disturbed  only  by 
the  crash  of  shells  and  the  annoying  zip  of  the  sharp- 
shooters' bullet. 

Joe  was  a  captain  now  and  no  longer  carried  a  mus- 
ket. So  thorough  was  he  in  discipline  and  so  ever 
ready  for  duty  that  he  attracted  the  attention  of  his 
general,  and  the  youthful  officer  found  his  soldier  life 
more  pleasant  than  at  any  time  since  the  war  began. 
On  the  horrible  30th  of  July,  1864,  it  was  Joe's  company 
that  led  the  friendly  succor  rushing  to  the  help  of  the 
torn  and  mangled  regiment  that  had  endured  the  fires 
of  hell  at  the  *' Crater."     The  exigences  of  war  will 

(88) 


CHRISTMAS.  89 

excuse  many  things  that  are  shocking  to  the  civilian 
mind,  but  never  the  murder  of  sleeping  men,  and  mod- 
ern warfare  records  nothing  more  inhuman  than  the 
dreadful  slaughter  of  those  South  Carolina  troops  on 
the  breastworks  in  front  of  Petersburg.  The  British 
justified  the  blowing  of  Sepoys  from  the  cannon  mouth 
by  pointing  to  their  awful  crimes,  and  this  was  after 
trial ;  but  humanity  revolts  when  brave  men,  whose 
only  offense  is  heroic  defense  of  rights  and  property, 
are  allowed  no  chance  for  their  lives.  The  act  was 
barbarous,  and  will  forever  cast  a  shadow  over  an  illus- 
trious fame,  but  the  retribution  which  the  God  of  bat- 
tles sometimes  thunders  upon  the  evil-doer  came  swift 
and  terrible.  The  call  of  blood  crying  from  the  ground 
for  vengeance  was  never  more  fully  answered  than 
when  a  few  hours  later  four  thousand  Federal  dead 
were  piled  in  one  sickening  mass  amid  the  ruins  of  the 
mighty  explosion.  Confusion  suddenly  darkened  their 
counsels,  and  shameful  defeat  marked  a  day  they 
hoped  to  make  forever  famous.  Just  inside  the  lines, 
where  a  monument  now  marks  the  wreck  of  a  Massachu- 
setts regiment,  Joe's  column  struck  the  enemy  with  inde- 
scribable fury  and  checked  their  triumphant  progress. 
The  Federals  fought  that  day  like  men  who  had  no 
heart  and  their  opponents  with  the  blind  fury  of  tigers. 
When  the  blue  column  reached  the  scene  of  the  explo- 
sion and  saw  men  dying  with  horrible  burns;  some  poor 
wretches  begging  to  be  pulled  from  under  the  wreck, 
and  others  calling  piteously  for  water,  those  soldiers 
whose  bravery  had  won  triumph  after  triumph  for 


90  TOM    AND    JOE. 

their  cause  were  conquered  in  the  2:)resence  of  their  own 
sickening  work.  They  fought  not  with  their  old-time 
alacrity,  but  as  men  who  were  ashamed  of  the  ruin 
they  had  wrought. 

For  meritorious  conduct  at  the  "mine  explosion"  our 
Joe  was  the  next  day  promoted  to  the  rank  of  major. 

"I'm  with  you,  Joe,"  cried  Goodnight,  as  they  hur- 
ried to  the  battle,  and  his  faithful  rifle  spoke  out  clear 
amid  the  rattle  of  many  muskets.  The  smoke  of  awful 
conflict  settled  down  over  the  scene,  and  when  it  arose 
the  two  armies  were  back  in  their  original  positions. 
The  largest  grave  ever  hollowed  by  human  means  was 
filled  with  victims,  and  the  bitter  hatred  which  j^et 
rankles  in  thousands  of  hearts  took  on  another  degree 
of  bitterness. 

That  evening  when  Goodnight  came  to  report  his 
day's  work  to  Joe  (his  invariable  custom)  ho  patted  his 
rifle  affectionately  as  he  said : 

"She  aimed  her  feed  to-day,  Joe.  I  fired  down  on 
them  niggers  and  white  men  in  that  great  big  hole 
until  Tm  plum  sick.  The  Lord  forgive  me,  but  I 
bleeve  I'm  gitten  blood-thirsty  an'  ain't  satisfied  onless 
I'm  shootin'  at  some  poor  Yankee.  There  I  wus  a 
shootin'  them  fellers  in  that  hole  with  a  warm  feelin' 
inside  of  me  like  I  wus  eatin'  a  good  dinner.  Joe, 
I  do  hate  to  shoot  at  men  who  don't  hev  no  fair  chance 
to  shoot  back,  but  they  dug  the  hole  an'  got  in  it,  so 
what  wus  I  to  do?  Ef  this  thing  would  jest  stop  I 
would  give  my  chance  of  ever  seein'  ole  North  Carliney 
agin." 


CHRISTMAS. 


91 


But  the  thing  did  not  stop,  and  month  after  month, 
all  through  the  autumn  and  winter  of  18G4,  the  tre- 
mendous strokes  of  the  Federal  battering  ram  shook 
the  Confederate  temple  to  its  foundation.  Turret  and 
tower  fell  in  ruins,  crushing  the  gallant  defenders, 
yet  the  survivors  fought  on  with  a  desperate  valor 
that  won  the  admiration  of  fighting  men  in  every 
country. 

Christmas  came,  but  not  a  glad  season  ;  for  who  can 
ever  forget  the  dreary  desolation  that  made  men  sick 
at  heart,  and  many  to  wonder  if  the  Prince  of  Peace 
had  forsaken  his  people. 

"  What  is  that  you've  brought  in  that  bag,  Good- 
night, and  why  are  you  sticking  to  it  so  closely?" 
asked  Joe,  on  the  afternoon  before  Christmas.  He  was 
sitting  at  the  door  of  his  poor  apology  for  a  tent  think- 
ing of  the  Christmas  time  he  last  spent  at  Belhaven, 
when  the  scout  came  in  from  one  of  his  country  trips 
looking  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  and  carrying  a 
well-filled  sack  on  his  shoulder.  Goodnight  seated 
himself  on  a  stump,  and,  putting  the  precious  parcel 
mider  his  knees,  answered : 

"  Well,  now,  Joe,  don't  you  be  too  perticular.  You 
bet  I  didn't  tote  that  bag  seven  miles  for  nuthin',  an'  I 
ain't  gwinter  turn  it  loose  nuther,  with  all  these  rap- 
skalliony  fellers  a  settin'  aroun'  here  with  empty  stum- 
ucks.  A  empty  stumuck,  Joe,  ain't  got  enny  conshunce, 
an'  I  wouldn't  trust  that  bag  with  the  best  man  oa 
General  Lee's  staff.  There  ain't  but  two  men  in  this 
army  that  I  would  trust  it  with.     General  Lee  is  one, 


92  TOM    AND    JOE. 

and  if  I  was  to  tell  you  the  totlier  you  would  feel  so 
proud  your  close  wouldu't  hold  you." 

*' Thank  you,  old  fellow;  thank  you;  you  make  mo 
blush,"  laughed  Joe. 

"Yes,  I  'lowd  as  much,  but  that  bag's  a  prize,  I  tell 
you.     There's  dooins  in  that  bag." 

"Dooins?"  repeated  Joe. 

"Dooins,  man,  dooins!  Chrismus  dooins,  you  hear 
me.  Looker  here,  boy,  an'  let  your  mouth  water,  you 
hongry  young  sinner" — and  Goodnight  drew  from  the 
bag  the  lifeless  form  of  an  ancient  rooster  that  had 
crowed  at  the  birth  of  the  young  Confederacy — now  to 
be  buried  amidst  its  ruins. 

"  Now  look  here  agin,  will  you,  an'  keep  your  mouth 
shet.  Ain't  them  taters  about  the  best  truck  you've 
seed  since  we  left  Georgy  ? — but  law,  they  ain't  a  patch  in 
to  what  we  uster  raise  in  ole  North  Carliney.  I'm  that 
tired  of  salty  bacon  and  corn  bred — if  it  wernt  for  the 
rank  pizen  of  the  thing  I'd  desert  an'  go  over  to  the 
Yankees.  I  lay  they'll  liev  plenty  of  good  things  to 
eat  to-morrow;  more  good  truck  of  one  sort  an'  a 
nuther,  sont  from  home,  than  you  could  shake  a  stick 
at.  Lawd,  Lawd,  if  we  could  only  git  into  their  camp 
like  we  did  that  Sunday  mornin'  at  Shiloh ! — but 
shucks !  I  ain't  had  one  dern  thing  sence  I  come  to  olc 
Virginny  but  devlish  liard  knocks,  an'  plenty  of  'em. 
Now,  this  old  cock  here  is  tuff  enuf  to  hev  crowed  fer 
Saint  Peter  to  a  wept  by,  but  I'll  bile  him  all  nite,  an' 
in  the  mornin'  I'll  roas  these  fellers,  an*  then — gentul- 
men,  I'm  gwintcr  set  down  to  the  best  Chrismus  dooins 


CHRISTMAS.  03 

in  General  Lee's  army.  I'm  plum  burnt  out  on  bacon 
an'  corn-bred,  an'  the  beef  what  we  gets  turns  my 
stumuck.  I  don't  mind  the  fiten,  but  this  thing  oi 
starvin'  is  agin  my  principles." 

"When  the  scout  was  in  camp  Joe  got  very  little 
chance  to  talk — once  in  a  while  he  could  get  in  a  ques- 
tion.    He  now  asked : 

"But,  old  fellow,  you  haven't  told  us  liow  you  came 
by  these  dooins;  did  you  buy  them?" 

"Darnation;  no!  Buy  nothin.  They  axed  me  a 
dollar  a  pound  for  some  ole  flour  over  there  in  town 
this  mornin,  an'  they  bed  to  keep  the  barrel  kivered 
less'n  the  weevils  would  all  fly  away  with  it.  Buy  your 
granny's  milk  cow !  I  conferskated  'em.  You  know 
I  lies  my  permit  as  a  scout,  but  devlish  little  scoutin  I 
kin  do  with  them  Yankee  lines  only  about  two  hundred 
yards  off  from  ourn,  an'  it  all  open  country,  too.  Then, 
there's  Phil.  Sheridan's  troopers  scourin  aroun  in  every 
ten-acre  lot,  ontil  a  man  lies  to  keep  every  eye  open 
all  the  time.  One  of  them  blamed  fellows  got  after 
me  one  day  last  week  with  one  of  them  repetin  rifles, 
an',  gentulmen,  the  way  he  did  shoot  wus  a  caution. 
I  lied  to  keep  dodgin  so  fast,  that  I  couldn't  shoot  fer 
several  minits,  but  bimeby  I  fetched  a  crack  at  him 
tliat  muster  soured  on  his  stumuck.  I  didn't  hev  no 
tiaie  to  git  his  weepin;  but,  here  I  am,  plum  off  the 
track.  "Wus  tryin  to  tell  yon  about  the  rooster,  an'  got 
mixed  up  with  that  Yankee.  Well,  as  I  wus  gwinter 
tell  you,  I  went  back  through  the  town  an'  over  the 
bridge,  an'  then  I  foUered  a  little  bline  sort  of  a  road 


94  TOM   AND   JOE. 

ontil  I  thought  I  wus  gwine  plum  to  ole  North  Caiii- 
iiey.  I  woulder  jest  iiacherly  'er  gone  on,  but,  when  I 
thought  about  what  a  hitch  you  fellers  wus  all  in 
here,  an'  how  Gener'l  Lee  mighterlost  heart  had  I  quit 
him,  I  said  to  myself,  says  I:  Caleb,  you've  got  to  dance 
to  that  ole  fiddle  until  the  last  string  pops;  an'  I'm 
g winter  do  it,  too.  Bimeby  I  come  to  a  little  clearin' 
on  the  creek,  with  a  house  sot  out  in  the  field,  an'  I 
heard  this  ole  rooster  crow  over  in  the  edge  of  the 
woods.  I  dunno  what  he  wanted  to  be  crowin  fer  these 
times.  I  knowd  it  warn't  no  use  to  go  up  to  the  house 
an'  try  to  make  no  bargin  fer  tliat  chicken,  so  I  got  me 
a  good  stick  an  slipt  aroun'  to  wdiar  he  wus  a 
scratchin  an'  galivantin'  about  sum  hens,  an'  the 
first  thing  he  knowd  I  wus  right  on  him.  He 
didn't  git  out  more'n  about  three  kuk-kuk-kuks,  an' 
made  like  to  run,  when  I  drapt  him  quicker'n  a  cat 
can  wink  ;  I  then  crawled  up  to  wharthey  had  banked 
their  winter  supply  of  sweet  taters,  an'  I  opened  a  hole 
an'  took  out  as  much  as  I  could  tote  handy,  but  it  did 
look  so  much  like  stealin  that  I  got  out  my  last  five- 
dollar  bill — new  issue — an'  fasniii  it  on  a  stick,  left  it 
in  the  hole  whar  the  taters  cum  from.  Ef  they  don't 
spend  it  purty  soon,  it's  my  opinion  that  they'll  hev  to 
keep  it  as  a  war  relic." 

"Didn't  you  say  you  were  gwine  up  to  Kichmun  to- 
morrow, Joe?" 

"Yes,  old  fellow;  I  have  an  invitation  from  Colonel 
DuPree  to  eat  a  Christmas  dinner  with  him  to-morrow 


CHRISTMAS.  95 

evening,  and  I  shall  go  on  the  mid-day  train,  provided 
our  friends  in  front  do  not  require  my  attention." 

*' Well,  I  never  cuss,"  remarked  Goodnight;  "but  I 
must  say,  dam  a  man  or  a  Yankee  who  won't  let  a  fel- 
ler live  peaceable  on  a  Crismus.  Ef  they  spile  your 
Crismus  dinner,  Joe,  I'll  spile  some  of  'ems  supper,  or 
you  may  call  me  a  Dutchman." 

The  next  morning  Joe  partook  lightly  of  the  "doo- 
ins,"  and,  arraying  himself  in  the  best  of  his  scanty 
wardrobe,  hied  him  away  to  Richmond,  and  to  Jennie 
As  he  was  about  to  leave,  Goodnight  beckoned  him 
aside,  and  asked:  ''Is  that  purty  little  black-eyed  gal 
of  Kernel  DuPree's  up  to  Richmond?"  And,  when 
answered  affirmatively, said:  "Toobyshure!  I  thought 
so." 

When  Joe  was  gone,  Goodnight  said  reflectively:  "I 
knowd  it.  Nuthin  on  the  tup-side  of  this  ole  bum- 
shelled  earth  coulder  called  that  boy  away  from  the 
front,  even  for  a  minit,  except  that  enticin  little  gal. 
There  never  wus  but  one  sech  gal  made,  an'  her  name 
wus  Susan,  and  she  lived  in  ole  North  Carliney." 

When  Joe  reached  Richmond,  it  cost  him  a  ten-dol- 
lar bill  out  of  his  scanty  pay  for  a  carriage  to  Colonel 
DuPree's  residence.  His  ring  at  the  door  was  answered 
by  a  smart  darkey,  who  asked,  with  a  streak  of  impu- 
dence, while  holding  out  a  silver  waiter:  ''Is  you  got  a 
kyard,  sir?" 

"No,"  replied  Joe — picking  up  a  cane  that  stood  at 
the  entrance — "  but  I  have  a  stick,  and  I'll  break  your 


96  TOM  AND   JOE. 

head  if  you  don't  drop  your  impudent  manner.  Go 
and  tell  your  master  that  his  friend,  Major  Mabry,  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  is  at  the  door." 

The  negro  jumped  as  if  a  ten-pound  shell  had 
exploded  near  him  and  rushed  to  find  his  master.  In 
telling  his  experience  that  night  to  his  fellows,  he 
said :  "'Fore  Gawd  !  dat  young  man  is  a  sooner.  He 
hole  he  head  like  he  wus  a  general — rare  back  like 
General  Lee  heself." 

Col.  DuPree  hastened  to  the  door  and  w^elcomed  Joe 
with  the  thorough  hospitality  of  an  old-time  friend. 

"  Why  bless  you,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  truly  glad  to  see 
you.  Indeed  I  am ;  and  they  tell  me  you  fought  j^our 
way  up  battle  by  battle  until  here  you  are  a  major  at 
twenty-one.  Well,  w^ell,  well !  I  expect  to  see  you  in 
command  of  a  brigade  yet.  Ah,  Joe !  wdio  would  have 
expected  the  quiet  young  farmer  boy  of  dear  old  Feli- 
ciana to  become  such  a  superb  soldier.  Good  Southern 
blood  will  tell  every  time." 

Joe  modestly  disclaimed  any  merit  that  deserved  a 
higher  rank,  and  said  that  he  tried  to  do  his  part 
wherever  duty  called. 

"  By  the  way,  my  boy,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "Jen- 
nie is  here  w^ith  me  now  and  as  full  of  life  as  ever. 
These  times  of  trouble  don't  seem  to  cloud  her  spirits 
in  the  least.  She  went  out  last  night  with  her  cousin, 
John  Barton,  to  attend  a  Christmas  festival,  and  they 
did  not  get  home  until  past  midnight,  so  the  lazy  little 
thing  has  kept  her  room  the  better  part  of  to-day.  I 
sent  her  word  that  you  had  arrived  and  she  will  be 


CHRISTMAS.  97 

down  directly.  You  and  Jennie  were  great  friends  in 
childhood  and  I  know  she  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Of 
course  you  remember  John  Barton  ;  a  handsome  fellow, 
so 'the  girls  think,  though  his  style  of  beauty  doesn't 
suit  my  fancy  in  a  man — a  sort  of  cousin  of  Jennie's? 
and  very  rich." 

This  last  qualification  was  more  powerful  with  the 
old  gentleman  than  he  would  admit  to  himself. 

There  was  a  chill  about  our  young  soldier's  manly 
heart  at  this  mention  of  Jennie  and  his  quondam  rival, 
and,  when  a  moment  later  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  gar- 
ment announced  the  entrance  of  that  young  beauty, 
there  came  over  him  the  same  feeling  that  made  him 
tremble  when  he  received  his  *' baptism  of  fire"  that 
memorable  Sunday  morning  at  Shiloh.  But  only  for 
a  moment  did  he  falter — then  rising  to  the  full  dignity 
of  his  young  manhood,  he  listened,  while  he  held  her 
hand,  to  her  stately  welcome,  so  difi'erent  from  that  he 
had  dreamed  of  the  night  before  in  the  trenches  of 
Petersburg. 

"We  are  all  so  glad  to  see  you,  Major  Mabry,  and  we 
are  proud  of  your  splendid  career  as  a  soldier." 

Joe  murmured  his  thanks,  and  replied  that  the  old 
friends  of  his  boyhood  were  ever  dear  to  him,  nor  could 
he  ever  forget  the  fair  girl  who  played  and  romped 
with  him  so  long  ago. 

Other  members  of  the  family  drifted  in,  when  the 

conversation  became  general,  and,  as  usual,  the  war 

was  the  principal  topic.     It  is  yet  a  subject  upon  which 

the  people  of  the  South   love  to  dwell,  for  around  it 

5 


98  TOM    AND    JOE. 

cling  their  saddest  and  tenderest  memories,  nor  will 
they  ever  cease  to  love  and  venerate  tliose  mighty  men 
of  valor  who  made  that  immortal  struggle  the  crown- 
ing achievement  of  all  the  ages. 

"Tell  us  how  matters  are  progressing  in  front,  Major 
Mabry,'^  said  Jennie,  "and  when  will  General  Lee  drive 
Grant  away  as  he  did  McClellan  and  others  ?'* 

"Yes,  yes,  Joe,"  chimed  in  the  Colonel,  "I  want  to 
know  the  honest  opinion  of  a  soldier — one  who  was  on 
the  ground  and  helped  to  do  the  fighting.  Don't  you 
think  the  whole  business  has  been  miserably  botched?" 

The  young  soldier  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  for- 
getting that  he  was  in  the  very  presence  of  "the  powers 
that  be" — forgetting  that  Jennie  was  listening — told  an 
eloquent  story  of  the  wrongs  endured  by  his  comrades. 

"Colonel  DuPree,  it  will  be  hard  for  you  to  realize 
that  our  army  is  slowly  starving  and  freezing.  General 
Grant  need  not  rush  his  brave  troops  against  our  lines 
to  have  them  slaughtered,  for  two  months  more  of  such 
treatment  as  they  have  received  from  the  authorities 
lately  will  destroy  the  last  hope  of  the  Confederacy.  I 
speak  only  of  material  matters  now,  for  there  are  other 
things  Avhich  tend  to  destroy  the  morale  of  the  army, 
but  this  question  of  supplies  and  reinforcement  is  para- 
mount. What  is  the  object  of  those  immense  stores  in 
Georgia  and  Alabama?  If  they  are  intended  for  the 
army  in  Virginia  they  ought  to  be  delivered,  or  given 
out  to  our  suffering  women  and  children  at  home.  It 
looks  very  much  like  they  were  put  up  as  so  many 
baits  for  raiding  parties  of  the  enemy.     Do  you  won- 


CHRISTMAS.  99 

der  that  our  men  desert,  and  that  those  wlio  once  get 
a  chance  to  go  home  rarely  return  ?  Men  may  love  to 
fight  for  their  country,  and  may  be  drawn  by  a  sense 
of  duty,  or  a  feeling  of  patriotism,  to  stick  to  their  post 
in  front,  but  there  are  very  few  who  feel  called  upon  to 
starve  in  defense  of  State  rights  and  negro  slavery. 
You  may  think,  sir,  that  I  have  picked  up  some  radi- 
cal notions  for  a  Confederate  soldier,  but  I  tell  you  in 
all  candor  that  I  speak  but  the  sentiments  of  the  men 
who  are  presenting  their  breasts  a  living  barrier  to  the 
legions  of  the  North.  What  is  the  matter  with  our 
people,  anyhow  ?  We  ought  to  have  a  million  men 
under  arms,  and  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand of  them  should  be  around  Richmond,  or  thun- 
dering at  the  gates  of  Washington.  Now  what  are  the 
facts  in  the  case  ?  Forty  thousand  men  are  all  that 
General  Lee  can  call  his  own,  and  they  suffering  the 
bitterest  pangs  of  poverty.  Think,  sir,  what  they  have 
endured  this  cold  winter,  and  what  they  must  still  suf- 
fer on  scant  rations  and  not  clothing  enough  to  meet 
the  demands  of  decency;  yet  they  rush  to  battle  and 
to  death  with  a  cheerful  alacrity,  that  proves  their 
earnest  patriotism  and  their  glorious  courage. 

"And  our  great  leader!  How  shall  I  speak  of  him? 
He  stands  out  the  sublimest  character  in  this  mighty 
struggle,  and  I  know  his  great  soul  suffers  as  he  sees 
his  men  suff"er.  I  tell  you,  Colonel  DuPree,  I  believe  it 
is  the  love  these  soldiers  have  for  that  wonderful  man 
that  keeps  them  where  they  are.  They  call  him 
*  Uncle  Robert,'  and  no  matter  how  the  l)attle  may 


100  TOM   AND   JOE. 

seem  to  go  against  them,  let  him  but  ride  along  the 
lines  and  it  is  worth  ten  thousand  fresh  troops.  They 
cannot  help  from  shouting  whenever  they  see  that 
grand  old  hero,  and  the  slowest  man  in  the  army  would 
resent  an  insult  to  General  Lee  as  he  would  to  his  own 
father.  I  love  him;  yes,  you  may  call  it  'hero  wor- 
ship,' if  3^ou  please;  and  to  win  such  w^ords  of  praise 
as  he  gave  the  young  Alabama  artillerist  I  would 
cheerfully  face  the  deadliest  volley  ever  poured  from 
Federal  lines.     I  would  even  starve  for  him. 

"Now,  let  me  give  you,  my  father's  friend  and  mine, 
a  word  of  warning.  If  you  have  any  preparation  to 
make  for  meeting  the  inevitable  collapse,  I  insist  that 
you  do  not  delay.  The  end  is  rapidly  approaching, 
and  just  so  soon  as  the  condition  of  the  roads  will  per- 
mit the  enemy  to  move  we  wull  be  compelled  to  retreat. 
Where  will  we  go?  is  a  question  I  cannot  answ^er. 
The  crash  will  come  very  soon,  but  I  may  not  live  to 
see  it.  Of  one  tiling  I  am  certain — come  fame  and 
triumph,  come  starvation  and  death — I  shall  follow 
'Uncle  Robert'  to  the  last  ditch!" 

The  young  soldier's  eyes  were  flaming  with  the 
light  of  battle  and  his  voice  was  clear  as  a  trumpet. 

"Oh,  Joe!"  cried  Jennie,  impetuously,  "you  look 
like  a  hero  !  "  Then,  bursting  into  tears,  she  fled  from 
the  room. 

Joe  enjoyed  that  Christmas  dinner,  for  ho  brought 
with  him  the  appetite  of  one  who  had  fasted.  Jennie 
was  very  quiet,  and  for  many  a  year  she  never  passed 
this  anniversary  without  thinking  tenderly  of  her  gal- 


CHRISTMAS.  101 

lant  young  lover  who  came  to  her  from  out  the  din  of 
battle,  looked  into  her  eyes  for  one  brief  hour,  and  then 
rode  back  into  the  battle's  smoke. 

AVhen  Joe  got  back  to  Petersburg  that  night  he 
heard  the  boom  of  heavy  guns  and  the  crash  of  ex- 
ploding shells.  "Hello,  Joe!"  cried  Goodnight,  who 
was  waiting  at  the  depot' to  welcome  his  return;  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you  back  looken  so  smilin'.  Them  onman- 
nered  Yanks  are  firin'  their  Crismus  guns,  an'  being 
'feard  of  wastin'  ammynishun  they  puts  in  them  big 
shells  an'  flings  'em  over  to  us  with  the  complyments 
of  the  season.  Dern  'em  !  if  I  don't  fling  some  small- 
bore complyments  back  to  'em  in  the  morning,  you 
may  call  me  a  son  of  a  Dutchman. 

"  Lawd !  Lawd !  I  hev  spent  the  miserablest  Crismus 
sence  I  got  through  with  them  dooins  this  mornin' — 
sorter  sickly  about  the  gills  and  puny-livered.  I  reckon 
'twus  'cause  you  went  to  see  that  little  black-eyed  gal 
o'  yourn,  an'  it  put  me  to  studyin'  about  Susan.  I 
wonder  if  the  good  Lord  is  ever  gwinter  let  me  see 
that  gal  agin  ?  It'll  be  jest  about  my  confounded  luck 
to  meet  her  sometime  with  about  six  little  tow-headed 
Tar-heels  callin'  her  *  mammy,'  an'  I  can't  stand  that, 
nohow.  Better  be  killed  by  the  Yankees.  I  think, 
Joe,  that  I'll  get  aquainted  with  some  of  them  North 
Carliney  fellows  what's  camped  next  to  us,  an'  maby 
I'll  find  some  feller  what  knows  the  people  in  my  ole 
diggins  ;  who  knows  but  I  might  hear  somethin'  about 
Susan  ?     Oh,  she  wus  the  likeliest  gal." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


JOHN  BARTON  AND  JENNIE. 

r^N  the  afternoon  of  "New  Year's,"  Richmond  was 
S^alive  with  vehicles  dashing  in  every  direction.  The 
grandeur,  the  gaiety,  and  the  wealth  of  the  capital 
were  tliere,  and  the  poor  emaciated  private  from  the 
hospital  was  wandering  about  the  streets  to  gaze  upon 
the  festival,  and  wonder  what  his  wife  and  babies  were 
doing  in  the  far-away  cottage  amid  the  mountains. 
Who  could  have  imagined  that  the  Goths  were  already 
thundering  at  the  gates  of  Eomc,  and  that  the  mighty 
walls  were  tottering  to  their  final  ruin?  Yet,  with  all 
the  signs  and  portents  gleaming  ominously  along  the 
Southern  sky,  there  w^as  a  sound  of  revelry  in  many  a 
stately  home.  AVho  cared  for  the  distant  bellowing  of 
gunboats  on  the  river,  and  the  flaming  thunder  along 
the  embattled  host  of  foemen?  Was  not  Robert  Lee 
in  command?  Then  all  must  be  safe.  Was  not  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  glorious  as  of  old,  "stand- 
ing like  a  stonewall"  before  the  enemy?  Alas!  the 
"right  arm"  of  the  commander  was  gone,  and  his 
legions  had  perished  by  many  a  rolling  river. 

A  vast  cosmopolitan  population  had  assembled  in 
the  Confederate  capital — thousands  of  them  holding 
office,  and  yet  other  thousands  struggling  for  place, 

(102) 


JOHN    BARTON   AND   JENNIE.  103 

On  that  day  dashing  young  officers  and  foppish  gray- 
beards — all  adorned  with  gold  lace  and  shiny  brass 
buttons — beat  tattoo  upon  the  sidewalks  with  high- 
heeled  boots,  or  stormed  up  the  rocky  streets  in  car- 
riages. Were  those  men  rushing  to  meet  the  legions 
of  Grant?  Ah,  no !  They  were  passing  from  drawing- 
room  to  bower,  and  from  bower  to  salon — with,  perhaps, 
intermediate  calls  at  the  saloon.  Those  men  wore  mili- 
tary titles  suggestive  of  battle.  They  are  yet  "  colo- 
nels," after  a  lapse  of  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and -tell 
to  the  present  generation  many  marvelous  stories  of 
personal  prowess  in  the  old  days.  They  had  no  hope 
then  of  ever  winning  military  fame,  unless  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  critics,  but  the  ugliest  dandy  in  the  crowd 
had  aspirations  to  become  a  drawing-room  hero. 

Women  are  the  same  blessed,  mysterious  creatures 
from  Boston  to  Zululand.  If  they  cannot  have  a  man 
about,  they  will  smile  upon  a  dude.  When  the  man 
is  away  off,  busy  in  the  battle  of  life,  that  nonentity 
known  in  all  ages  as  the  fop,  the  dandy,  or  the  dude, 
attempts  the  role  of  man,  and  he  sometimes  passes 
current.  Is  it  not  possible  that  the  time  is  coming 
when  the  American  woman  will  rather  support,  protect, 
and  cherish  a  dude,  than  be  supported,  protected,  and 
cherished  by  a  man?  The  tendency  of  education  is 
that  way. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  carriage  stopped  at  Colonel 
DuPree's  gate.  A  young  man  alighted  with  an  air  of 
easy  assurance,  and,  dismissing  the  driver,  passed  in 
through  the  door  without  the  formality  of  ringing. 


104  TOM    AND    JOE. 

He  was  a  handsome  young  man  with  shapely  hands 
and  feet,  wavy  brown  liair,  and  a  moustache  that  the 
girls  called  "just  lovely."  An  elegant  Confederate  uni- 
form fitted  his  graceful  figure,  and  there  was  that  in 
his  movements  which  suggested  "a  slight  suspicion  of 
something  to  drink." 

Entering  the  parlor,  self-announced,  he  found  Jennie 
comfortably  curled  up  in  an  immense  cushioned  rocker. 
She  hastily  folded  and  hid  in  her  pocket  a  letter  she 
had  just  been  reading,  and  in  the  depths  of  her  lovely 
dark  eyes  there  w^as  a  glimmer  of  tears. 

"Ah,  my  fair  tyrant!  You  needn't  hide  the  letter; 
I  know  it's  only  a  petition  from  some  poor  fellow  j^ou 
have  enslaved,  and  he  is  praying  you  to  pile  on  more 
fetters.  Do  I  not  guess  well?  Hello!  it  must  be  a  bad 
case,  for  I  see  tears  in  your  bright  eyes." 

"Sit  down,  Cousin  John,  and  don't  be  ridiculous. 
The  letter  is  from  a  dear  friend,  telling  me  how  sadly 
our  poor  boys  suffered  three  days  ago  during  that  dread- 
ful snow-storm.  The  brave  fellows  were  out  in  the 
trenches  at  Petersburg,  and  many  of  them  were  so  ter- 
ribly frost-bitten  that  they  are  being  sent  up  here  to 
the  hospital." 

"Yes,  yes;  that  is  too  bad.  "We  soldiers  have  a 
hard  time  indeed,  and  our  country  ought  to  be  very 
grateful.  Only  the  other  day,  with  all  that  snow  on 
the  ground,  I  had  to  go  down  to  Petersburg  with  a 
special  letter  from  the  department  to  General  Lee,  and 
would  you  believe  it,  Jennie,  I  had  to  ride  out  three 
miles  to  one  of  the  forts  where  the  General  was  over- 


JOHN    BARTON    AND    JENNIE.  105 

looking  some  new  works.  It  was  dreadful  cold,  but 
the  rough  fellows  were  workmg  in  the  mud  and  slush, 
singing  and  shouting  like  it  was  fun.  G enteral  Lee 
stood  on  the  ground  near  them,  and  they  were  the 
happiest  men  I  ever  saw.  I  had  to  ride  out  there  in 
an  open  top-buggy — yes,  yes,  we  soldiers  lead  an  awful 
hard  life." 

"Now,  Cousni  John,"  replied  Jennie,  "let  me  en- 
treat— don't  be  ridiculous!  You  talk  about  a  hard 
life ;  it  amuses  me.  You  spend  your  time  in  ease  and 
comfort,,  and  only  do  a  little  writing,  or  riding  about. 
You  have  the  rank  and  pay  of  captain,  yet  you  have 
never  been  in  a  battle." 

"  But  you  know,  Jennie,  that  I  am  on  General  Buf- 
fet's staff,  and  as  his  business  is  to  plan  rather  than 
fight,  I  am  compelled  to  remain  in  the  city.  Some- 
body has  to  do  the  '  head  work.'  But  let  me  tell  you, 
my  bright,  guiding  star,  that  I  long  to  rush  into  the 
thickest  of  the  fray  and  pluck  bright  honors  from  the 
cannon's  mouth.  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  that  you  would 
weep  o'er  my  lowly  grave  and  not  forget  the  young 
soldier  who  perished  in  defense  of  his  country !  "  Here 
John  grew  quite  pathetic,  and  showed  symptoms  of 
blubbering  over. 

"Oh,  Cousin  John,  do  stop!  I  am  about  to  weep 
now,  and  I  promise  you  here  that  when  you  are  killed 
iu  battle  I'll  'melt  mine  eyes  to  tears.'" 

John  Barton  did  not  know  whether  to  feel  tender 
or  savage  over  this  promise,  so  he  returned  to  the 
charge: 


106  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"  By  tlie  way,  Jennie,  who  is  your  tender-hearted 
friend  wlio  writes  sucli  a  jeremiade  about  tlie  woes  of 
the  soldiers?  Strange  I  never  heard  of  him  or  met 
him,  since  he  is  such  a  dear  friend  of  yours." 

A  flush  o'erspread  the  fair  face  as  she  answered: 

"Cousin  John,  you  will  certainly  recollect  him — one 
of  your  schoolmates  in  boyhood  and  now  one  of  tlie 
bravest  men  in  the  Southern  army.  ^ly  letter  is  from 
Major  Joseph  Mabry." 

John  Barton  was  sober  in  an  instant,  and  an  ugly 
look  darkened  his  face.  He  tried  for  a  moment  to 
compose  himself,  but  failing  to  control  his  passion  ho 
turned  to  the  girl  and  almost  hissed: 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you,  Jennie  DuPree, 
are  corresponding  with  that  cowardly  clod-hopper,  Joe 
Mabry?  A  fellow  whose  tastes  were  so  low  that  he 
followed  the  plow  and  fed  the  hogs,  while  I  and  other 
young  gentlemen  rode  about  the  country  at  our  leisure; 
a  fellow  who  could  not  dance  a  set  to  save  his  life,  and 
w^as  too  cowardly  to  resent  an  insult  when  I  threw  my 
glove  at  his  face  in  your  very  presence ;  a  clown  whoso 
highest  ambition  was  to  be  called  a  goody-good  boy  at 
school  and  exhibit  prize  pumpkins  at  the  county  fair. 
I  am  astonished  at  you  !  " 

John  Barton  evidently  did  not  understand  the  spirit 
of  his  pretty  cousin  Jennie,  else  he  would  have  been 
more  diplomatic.  The  fair  girl's  face  was  very  pale  for 
a  moment,  but  suddenly  the  flush  of  anger  mounted 
to  her  cheek,  and,  springing  to  her  feet,  the  wrathful 


JOHN    BARTON   AND    JENNIE.  107 

little  beauty  astonished  him  with  an  answer  that  he 
will  not  forget  to  his  dying  day. 

"John  Barton,  stop!  You  forget  that  you  are  in  tlie 
presence  of  a  lady,  and  that  you  are  slandering  a  man 
whom  she  is  proud  to  call  her  friend.  A  man  who  is 
the  very  embodiment  of  soldierly  valor;  whose  brave 
heart  has  carried  him  through  the  dangers  and  horrors 
of  fifty  battles;  who  has  fought  his  way  up  from  the 
ranks,  and  whose  lofty  soul  would  spurn  the  malignant 
slander  of  even  an  absent  enemy.  0,  that  my  coun- 
try had  a  million  such  sons  to  serve  her  in  this  hour 
of  trial !  I  would  rather  be  a  man  and  die  by  Joe 
Mabry's  side  in  the  hour  of  battle,  than  be  the  proud- 
est carpet  knight  in  all  this  fair  city.  0,  to  be  a  man 
and  a  soldier  at  this  hour! " 

"John  Barton,  you  did  not  know  Joe  Mabry  when 
he  was  a  boy,  nor  did  I.  We  could  not  understand 
how  he  could  work  on  the  farm  and  yet  be  a  gentle- 
man; could  feel  an  insult,  and  yet  not  stoop  to  the 
level  of  a  brawler." 

John's  rare  impudence  came  to  his  rescue,  and  ignor- 
ing the  stinging  rebuke  of  the  girl's  words,  he  replied  : 
"Why,  Jennie,  you  are  a  tragedy  queen,  and  are  raising 
an  awful  storm  on  small  provocation.  This  heroic  Joe 
Mabry  mu^t  have  vastly  improved  in  courage  since  the 
Valentine  party  the  first  year  of  the  war.  I  couldn't 
get  him  to  fight  then,  and  you  were  mighty  quick  to 
cut  him  for  a  coward.  I  have  alwaj^s  understood  that 
a  gentleman  would  demand  satisfaction  for  an  insult." 


108  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"Reproach  me  as  you  will,  Cousin  Jolin,  for  I  deserve 
it  all,"  replied  Jennie,  sadly.  ''I  have  told  you  that 
neither  of  us  were  able  to  understand  the  nobility  of 
soul  that  characterized  Joe  Mabry,  even  in  boyhood, 
and  now  that  he  has  reached  the  full  stature  of  a  man, 
physically  and  mentally,  his  soul  has  risen  to  yet  lof- 
tier hights.  I  repeat  that  I  am  proud  to  call  him 
friend,  and  I  warn  you  now,  as  you  value  my  respect, 
to  refrain  from  speaking  disparagingly  of  one  whom  I 
regard,  and  who  is  worthy  of  any  woman's  love. 
Understand  me;  I  will  not  listen  to  one  word  against 
my  friend.  Pardon  me,  Cousin  John,  if  I  have  been 
rude.     I  had  almost  forgotten  to  be  a  lady." 

John  Barton  did  not  linger  that  evening,  but  pru- 
dently took  his  leave  early,  and  divided  his  time  pretty 
equally  between  "hot-scotch"  and  full-grown  profanity. 

The  winter  passed  with  constant  suffering  among 
the  troops,  relieved  only  by  some  terribly  sharp  pas- 
sages at  arms.  Fighting  was  a  relief  to  those  brave 
men,  and  they  rushed  with  cheers  to  meet  the  attack 
of  the  enemy,  or  sang  songs  of  love  and  war  to  while 
away  the  hours.  The  wretched  condition  of  the  Vir- 
ginia roads  prevented  any  very  active  movements,  but 
the  Federal  commander  was  never  idle.  Vigilant  and 
aggressive,  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  striking  a 
blow  whenever  he  thought  he  detected  a  weak  point  in 
the  opposing  lines.  With  a  powerful  army,  supplied 
with  everything  in  the  way  of  equipment ;  a  new  man 
in  the  place  of  every  one  who  fell,  and  a  better  gun 
instead  of  each  one  lost,  there  was  every  encourage- 


JOHN  BARTON  AND  JENNIE.  109 

ment  to  fight.  He  did  fight  with  an  energy  that  shook 
the  continent.  After  tremendous  labor,  and  a  display 
of  infinite  patience,  he  succeeded  in  procuring  and 
mounting  a  powerful  battery  of  long-range  guns  on 
Fort  Steadman,  and  undertook  to  break  the  line  of 
communication  between  Petersburg  and  Richmond. 
Shells  from  those  guns  did  great  damage  in  the  city 
where  the  marks  are  yet  to  be  seen,  and  the  effect 
became  a  serious  problem  to  the  Confederates.  General 
Grant  well  knew  what  action  his  great  opponent  would 
take  when  those  guns  began  to  make  themselves  felt, 
and  like  a  wise  soldier  he  proceeded  to  strengthen  his 
works  with  all  the  skill  known  to  military  science. 
Not  satisfied  with  the  most  elaborate  preparation  in 
front,  he  built  yet  other  powerful  works  within  his  own 
lines  commanding  in  both  flank  and  rear  his  own 
heavy  battery.  It  was  a  wise  precaution,  as  'the  sequel 
shows,  and  illustrates  the  prudence  of  the  man  who 
never  failed  to  accomplish  his  undertakings.  But  we 
will  not  anticipate,  nor  will  we  intrude  further  into  the 
province  of  history  than  is  necessary  to  properly  locate 
our  humble  characters. 

Many  of  the  old  soldiers  of  both  sides  remember 
those  two  rival  works  on  the  southeast  of  the  city,  grimly 
named  by  their  defenders,  "Fort  Hell,"  and  "Fort 
Damnation."  To-day  the  tourist  forces  his  way  through 
the  dense  growth  of  scrub  and  briars,  and  walking  upon 
those  walls  of  earth  so  desperately  struggled  for,  finds 
in  every  open  space  a  cankered  bullet,  or  the  rusty 
fragment  of  a  shell — suggestive  mementoes  of  the  time 


110  TOM    AND   JOE. 

when  brother  fought  with  brotlier,  and  the  saddest 
pages  of  American  liistory  were  written.  So  man}' 
weary  months  of  ceaseless  watching  and  fighting ;  so 
much  of  suffering,  of  sorrow  and  of  death.  Alas  I  for 
the  brave  young  men  who  ended  their  glorious  lives  in 
this  struggle  !  Perhaps  it  was  best  for  the  permanency 
of  this  great  nation  that  the  rich  blood  should  have 
been  shed.  Perhaps  to-day  when  we  of  the  North  and 
South  meet  and  mingle  our  tears  around  the  altar  of 
sacrifice  a  mutual  sorrow  brings  our  hearts  nearer  to 
each  other,  and  may  be  it  was  well  that  the  victims 
were  offered  ;  but  ever  and  ever  the  suffering  soul  asks : 
"Why  was  the  boy  sacrificed?  Why  was  not  the  old 
political  ram  stretched  upon  the  sacrificial  earthwork 
instead  of  freeing  his  crooked  horn  from  the  thicket, 
and  being  allowed  to  roam  the  earth  at  large,  vexing 
the  people  with  discordant  bleating  ?  " 

The  pines  and  cherries  have  grown  above  the  place 
of  blood,  forest  trees  have  sprung  from  the  depths  of 
the  Crater,  and  the  roar  of  commerce-laden  trains  sounds 
like  the  far-off  muttering  of  musketry.  Lee  and  Grant 
have  clasped  hands  in  the  spirit  world,  and  a  united 
band  of  brothers  shout  again  on  the  eternal  shore. 

The  gloomy  spring  of  18G5  opened  in  tears.  Kind 
nature  sorrowed  o'er  tlie  fate  of  the  heroic  little  band 
in  the  beleaguered  city.  The  mighty  arms  of  the  Fed- 
eral giant  clasped  the  very  pillars  of  the  temple,  and 
well  the  defenders  knew  that  when  he  bowed  liimself 
and  put  forth  his  tremendous  strength  the  solid  earth 
would  tremble  under  the  pressure. 


JOHN    B.-..IITON    AND    JENNIE.  Ill 

Not  far  to  the  right  of  the  Crater  there  is  still  to  be 
seen  the  ruins  of  a  covered  way  which  ran  out  from 
the  main  line  of  defense  to  the  picket  line  some  little 
distance  in  front.  This  ditch  passes  through  one  edge 
of  a  little  country  grave-yard,  where  slept  the  bodies  of 
a  dead  and  gone  generation,  and  doubtless  those  poor 
inanimate  pieces  of  clay  kept  very  still  while  the  tem- 
pest of  war  raged  above  them. 

But  what  of  the  immortal  spirits?  If  they  come 
back  to  earth  how  anxiously  they  must  have  watched 
the  great  tragedy  develop  before  their  astonished  vis- 
ion! How  strange  this  hurricane  of  war  in  a  land  so 
peaceful  when  they  left  it,  and  more  than  strange  that 
its  wildest  horrors  should  have  centered  around  that 
unknown  grave-yard.  Broken  pieces  of  tombstones 
lie  scattered  around,  and  the  stains  of  leaden  missiles 
still  cling  to  the  marble,  but  the  thunder  of  battle  has 
passed  away,  leaving  no  sound  save  the  whistling  of 
the  partridge  and  the  cheery  song  of  the  plowman. 

Here  on  the  afternoon  of  March  24, 18G5,  we  find 
Joe  in  command  of  the  picket  post.  The  pickets  of 
the  respective  armies  did  a  great  deal  of  fighting  in 
thpse  days,  and  when  properly  handled  were  capable 
of  making  a  desperate  defense  of  their  position.  Joe 
had  the  remnant  of  his  skeleton  regiment,  and  all  the 
afternoon  a  spirited  interchange  of  shots  had  been 
made  with  more  or  less  damage.  No  man  could  ex- 
pose his  body  a  moment  without  drawing  a  bullet.  It 
was  one  of  those  occasions  when  the  shooting  appeared 
spiteful.     The  riflemen  made  all  sorts  of  secret  aper- 


112  TOM    AND   JOE. 

tures  in  the  works  where  they  could  fire  through  with- 
out being  seen,  but  not  long  could  one  remain  in  a 
place.  The  smoke  of  his  gun  would  reveal  the  spot  to 
some  keen  rival  eye,  and  the  unceremonious  bullet 
would  seek  a  victim.  Joe  had  brought  his  boyhood 
skill  into  practice,  and  after  detecting  several  lurking 
sharpshooters  had  routed  them  out  with  a  well-aimed 
ball. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  addressing  those  sitting  around; 
"there  is  a  fellow  at  the  end  of  that  log  on  their  line, 
a  little  to  the  left,  who  shoots  with  a  very  close  rifle. 
He  put  that  bullet  through  Johnnie  Stanford's  hat  an 
hour  ago,  and  if  he  isn't  scared  off  he'll  hurt  some- 
body this  evening.  I  tried  him  that  last  shot  and 
lodged  a  bullet  in  the  earth  just  where  it  joins  the  log, 

and  I  think  I  scared  him,  but" "By  George!  look 

at  that,  will  you?" 

As  he  spoke,  another  bullet  came  singing  past  his 
face  and  chipped  a  splinter  from  the  marble  that 
marked  the  grave  of  a  baby.  It  was  a  neat  little  monu- 
ment erected  by  some  loving  mother  j^ears  before, 
when,  with  tears  and  heartache,  she  put  her  darling 
away  out  of  her  sight.  0,  little  mounds  and  little 
marbles  I  You  hide  so  much  that  is  fair  and  are  so 
eloquent  of  love  and  agony! 

"I  wish  that  Goodnight  would  come;  he  could  stop 
that  fellow's  frolic." 

Joe  had  scarcely  expressed  his  wish,  when  the  voice 
of  the  giant  was  heard  roaring  down  the  covered  way: 
"Darnation!  what  do  they  wantcr  crowd  a  man  of  my 


JOHN    BARTON    AND   JENNIE.  113 

size  into  such  a  badger  hole  as  this  fer?  Ef  I'd  a 
knowd  I  hadter  git  down  on  my  beily  an'  crawl,  I'd  a 
made  a  run  fer  it  across  the  open.  Confound  this 
hidin  an'  crawlin,  ennyhow — let  me  stan'  up  fair  an' 
open  an'  take  a  crack  at  the  enemy ;  then,  let  him  do 
the  same  way. 

"Hello,  Joe!  Howeryer,  boys?  Enny  of  you  dead 
yet?  Ef  you  ain't,  them  Yankees  hev  been  wastin  a 
powerful  lot  of  ammynishun,  for  I've  hyeard  'em  a 
poppin  away  ever  since  I  left  the  depot." 

"We  are  all  right,  old  fellow,"  answered  Joe,  "and 
are  awful  glad  to  see  you.  We  were  just  speaking  of, 
and  wishing  for  you  and  your  rifle." 

"Speak  of  the  devil" — said  Lieutenant  Featherstone, 
who  lay  comfortably  behind  the  little  mound,  and 
leisurely  puffed  the  tobacco-smoke  above  his  head — 
"you  know  the  proverb." 

"Speak  of  your  mother-in-law!"  growled  Goodnight. 
"You  little  flap-jack  leftenants  are  too  peart,  ennyhow. 
Of  all  the  conseated,  imperdent  little  cusses  in  the 
whole  world,  exceptin,  of  course,  them  department 
clarks  up  to  Richmun — a  young  leftenant  with  a  little 
har  on  his  top  lip,  an'  a  tin  jobstick  by  his  side,  is  the 
conseatedest  and  imperdentest — an'  ef  you  don't  like 
them  big  words,  you  kin  jest  put  'em  in  your  gun  an' 
shoot  'em  over  to  the  Yankees." 

A  general  laugh  at  the  expense  of  the  young  ofiicer  fol- 
lowed this  reply ;  but  no  one  ever  got  mad  at  Goodnight. 

"Let  me  give  you  a  morsel  of  good  advice,  old  coon- 
skin,"  answered  the   young   man  pleasantly.     "That 


114  TOM    AND    JOE. 

earthwork  was  built  to  cover  men  of  regulation  sizes, 
and,  if  you  don't  squat  a  little  lower,  some  Yankee 
bullet  will  plug  that  big  gourd  on  your  shoulders.  We 
would  hate  to  lose  you  just  now,  old  scout;  besides,  it's 
awful  troublesome  to  bury  a  big  man  like  you." 

Never  was  advice  more  timely,  and  had  scarcely 
been  given  when  Goodnight  threw  himself  down  with 
a  growl  of  rage  and  clapped  his  hand  to  the  side  of 
his  head.  He  had  just  opened  his  mouth  to  say: 
"Confound  your  advice  and  you,  too'';  but  he  never 
said  it.  His  tune  changed,  as  he  said:  "Boys,  you're 
come  mighty  nigh  to  a  funeral.  Ef  that  feller  hader 
shot  one  inch  to  the  right,  it  woulder  been  good-bye  to 
ole  North  Carliney.  See  here  where  he  barked  my 
year." 

"By  the  great  hokeys.  exclaimed  Featherstone ; 
"that  Yankee  has  j)ut  you  in  his  mark, my  old  moun- 
tain bull,  and  he'll  claim  you  on  any  part  of  the  range. 
An  over-bit  in  the  right  ear  ?  If  the  left  has  a  sn:iooth 
crop,  it's  the  same  mark  my  father  used  to  use  on  his 
calves  and  pigs  down  in  Georgia." 

Goodnight  looked  at  him  reproachfully  for  a  second, 
and  then  remarked :  "  Frum  the  looks  of  your  head, 
your  daddy  muster  fergot  to  mark  one  of  his  calves — 
maybe  he  'lowd  it  warn't  wuth  markin." 

"I'll  venture  that  is  the  same  fellow  who  has  been 
doing  such  fancy  shooting  all  the  afternoon,"  spoke 
Joe.  "He  threw  dirt  in  my  face  a  while  ago,  put  a 
bullet  through  Johnnie  Stanford's  hat,  and  scared 
Featherstone  out  of  six  month's  growth — so  I  was  just 


JOHN  BARTON  AND  JENNIE.  115 

wishing  for  you  and  your  rifle  as  you  came  out  of  that 
hole." 

"  Well,  gentulmen,  ef  that  Yankee  ain't  my  meat, 
I'm  his'n.  I  wish  you  would  look  at  this  hearin'  organ 
of  mine,  Joe,  an'  tell  me  if  the  ole  mersheen  is  dam- 
aged much.  Now,  boys,  that  is  what  I  claim  to  be  a 
close  call,  an'  the  feller  what  hes  to  run  sich  chances 
had  better  keep  in  a  prain'  frame  of  mind.  Lawd, 
Lawd,  jest  think  what  a  mess  I'd  be  in  now  ef  that 
feller's  aim  had  been  a  leetle  better.  An'  I  wus  feelin' 
so  good,  too — hevin'  jest  heard  from  old  North  Car- 
liney.  But  I'm  burnin'  daylight,  an'  now  I  must  'tend 
to  that  feller  what  put  his  mark  on  me.  I'll  put  a 
brand  on  him  that  will  erdentify  him  a  hundred  yards 
in  anybody's  pasture — the  sneakin'  villun.'* 

The  veteran  scout  examined  his  rifle,  and  then  work- 
mg  his  way  on  hands  and  knees  about  twenty  yards 
further  down  the  little  earthwork,  he  carefully  dug  a 
hole  through  the  spongy  ridge,  making  the  outer  aper- 
ture barely  larger  than  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  Fixing 
his  huge  frame  as  comfortably  as  possible  in  his 
cramped  quarters,  he" patiently  awaited  developments; 
nor  had  he  long  to  wait,  when  a  puff  of  white  smoke 
at  the  end  of  the  log  told  that  another  rifle  ball  had 
followed  its  companions  on  a  visit  to  the  party  at  the 
little  graveyard.  In  extracting  the  exploded  cartridge 
the  unfortunate  sharpshooter  extended  his  elbow  for  a 
moment  beyond  the  end  of  the  sheltering  log.  That  one 
moment  was  enough.  Already  the  keen  eye  of  Good- 
night was  sweeping  along  the  deadly  barrel,  and  quick 


IIG  TOM    AND    JOE. 

as  thought  came  another  2)ufr  of  white  smoke,  another 
sharp  report,  and  there  was  one  more  mutilated  pen- 
sioner upon  Federal  bounty.  A  cry  of  pain  broke  from 
the  poor  fellow  as  the  cruel  bullet  shattered  the  bones 
of  his  arm,  and  even  as  he  fainted  he  heard  the  tre- 
mendous voice  of  the  scout : 

"  I  reckon  you'll  let  us  alone  for  a  coon's  age !  Ef 
you  fellers  will  quit  shootin'  for  awhile  we'll  let  you 
take  your  man  back  to  the  hosspital ;  we've  got  a  little 
of  his  smart  w^ork  to  look  after  over  here." 

"All  right!"  came  the  answer,  and  between  the 
pickets  at  this  point  there  was  an  informal  armLstioe. 


CHAPTER  XII, 


GOODNIGHT  CAPTURES  RICHMOND. 

n^HE  armistice  agreed  upon  by  the  opposing  pickets 
I  was  faithfully  kept,  and  when  the  stars  came  quietly 
out  for  their  nightly  vigil  the  old  soldiers,  except  an 
occasional  sentry,  threw  themselves  down  on  the  earth 
to  rest  and  to  sleep.  They  lay  about  in  groups,  some 
laughing,  some  eating  their  scanty  ration,  and  a  few 
growling  over  their  dismal  condition.  Soon  one  by 
one  they  went  off  into  happy  dreams  of  home  and 
loved  ones.  Blessed  sleep!  where  the  poor  ragged 
veterans  of  Lee  were  fed  and  clothed  abundantly. 

Many  a  brave  young  fellow  dreamed  that  night  of 
bright  eyes  that  w^ould  never  more  grow  brighter  at 
his  coming,  for  'ere  another  sun  should  set  his  glorious 
soul  would  be  beyond  the  stars  which  then  looked 
down  upon  him  so  pityingly  Blessed  sleep!  No 
thunder  of  cannon  and  rushing  of  squadrons  to  bat- 
tle, but  beautiful  dreams  of  home  and  peace. 

Our  group  at  the  graveyard  arranged  themselves  to 
get  the  most  comfort,  but  they  were  singularly  sleep- 
less. Goodnight  reclined  at  the  foot  of  a  small  cedar 
that  was  scarred  from  top  to  bottom  with  bullet  marks. 
Lieutenant  Featherstone,  the  brave  young  Georgian, 
lay   near  the  marble  pillar  that  a  vandal  shell  had 

(117) 


118  TOM   AND   JOE. 

broken  a  few  days  before,  wbile  our  Joe  spread  his 
blanket  and  rested  his  head  tenderly  upon  the  grave 
of  the  baby  whose  little  monument  was  so  cruelly 
hacked  by  the  sharpshooter's  bullet  tliat  afternoon. 
No  desecration  to  thee,  little  babe,  for  the  head  resting 
on  that  mound  was  worthy  a  laurel  crown,  and  the 
heart  that  beat  above  thee  was  faithful  to  every  trust ! 

As  Goodnight  settled  himself  down  with  a  great 
grunt  of  relief  he  remarked,  speaking  of  the  dead: 

"  These  here  are  mighty  peaceable-like  nabors  we've 
got  to-night." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Joe ;  "  the  dead  never  trouble  per- 
sons whose  consciences  are  easy,  and  I  would  that  our 
friends  over  the  way  were  as  well  disposed.  I  am  so 
tired  of  this  war — so  tired  of  being  cooped  up  in  the 
trenches  fighting  and  starving.  If  we've  got  to  fight, 
I  want  to  go  out  upon  the  open  field  and  hear  the  old- 
time  *  rebel  yell,'  such  as  we  shouted  at  Shiloh  and 
Chickamauga.  But  let  me  tell  you,  boys,  that  old 
shout  is  but  an  echo  of  its  former  self.  The  men  who 
used  to  follow  their  bayonets  to  the  music  of  their  own 
shouting  are  dead  on  a  hundred  battle-fields,  and  the 
countless  thousands  who  skulk  in  every  swamp  from 
Virginia  to  Texas  can  never  be  brought  to  a  sense  of 
their  duty.  It  will  soon  be  all  up  with  us,  for  at  the 
rate  we  are  going  all  will  be  dead  'ere  summer  opens. 
You  know,  boys,  why  we  quit  chilling  the  roll?  It  was 
so  discouraging,  and  we  could  count  our  squads  at  a 
glance.  I  know  that  our  *  Uncle  Ivobert '  will  do  all 
that  mortal  man  can  do-;-more,  in  fact,  than  any  one 


GOODNIGHT    CAPTURES    RICHMOND.  119 

living,  but  when  his  soldiers  are  all  gone  he  cannot 
keep  up  the  fight.'^ 

"  I  tell  YOU  what,  Joe,"  interposed  Goodnight,  "  there 
are  enuf  fellers  up  thar  to  Richmun',  standin'  around 
an'  pertendin'  to  be  doin'  somethin',  to  make  a  peart 
little  army ;  and  I  guess  it's  the  same  way  all  over  the 
South.  Evry  son-uv-a-gun  of  'em  hes  to  be  fed,  too, 
an'  that  what  makes  it  so  agrivatin'. 

"  Why,  gentulmen,  there's  enuf  of  them  fellers  what 
rides  around  all  over  the  country,  eatin'  up  all  the 
vittles  they  can  git,  an'  plunderin'  a  little  on  their  own 
hook,  to  eat  up  Grant's  whole  army.  They  calls  their- 
selves  *  cavelry,'  but  most  fokes  calls  them  *  butter- 
milk rangers,'  an'  that  name  jest  about  suits  'em,  shore 
'nuf.  Lawd,  Lawd,  ef  ole  Forrest  could  only  git  holt 
of  'em  he'd  make  'em  fight,  ef  there's  enny  fight  in 
'em.  It's  my  opinion  that  lots  of  'em  are  brave  men 
enuf,  but  they  aint  soljers. 

"What  they  need  is  diserplin.  No  soljer  ain't 
gwinter  fight  onless  you  diserplin  him,  an'  the  more 
diserplin  you  give  him  the  better  he's  gwinter  fight. 

"I've  been  up  to  Richmun  fer  two  days,  an'  it  fairly 
riled  me  to  see  the  'stonishin  ermount  of  3^oung  fellers 
warin  good  close — soljer  close,  too — an  'tendin  like 
they  wus  doin  somethin.  Imperdent  young  devils,  too. 
Why,  ser,  I  wus  a  walking  along  the  streets  a  lookin 
at  the  sights,  (for  Richmun  is  a  powerful  big  town — 
biggern  Wilmington),  an'  when  I  got  to  the  Saint 
Charles  hotel-corner,  there  wus  a  lot  of  peart,  spry- 
looking  chaps,  with  good  close  on,  an'  their  boots  jest 


120  TOM    AND    JOE. 

as  shiny  as  Kernel  DuPree's  nigger  waiter's  face — an' 
what  must  the  pizen  young  devils  do,  but  grin  an' 
chatter  like  a  passel  of  young  monkeys,  an'  make  re- 
marks about  me,  sech  as:  *  Hello,  feet!  where  you 
gwine  with  that  man?'  'Say,  long  legs;  wlien'd  you 
come  to  town  ? '  *  Where'd  you  git  them  britches  ? ' 
An'  a  whole  passel  more  sayins,  sech  as  no  one  but  a 
nachell  born  fool  would  everer  thought  of.  AVell,  gcn- 
tulmen,  that  riled  me,  an'  I  told  them  they  wus  a  lot  of 
conseated  imperdent  puppies  what  hedn't  got  their  eyes 
open,  but,  if  they'd  come  out  to  the  front  an'  fight  the 
Yankees,  I'd  fergiv  'em.  They  got  hot  then,  an'  wanted 
to  whup  me  right  there,  an'  one  of  'em  who  had  a  pore 
one-legged  soljer  a  blackin  his  boots,  he  upt  with  the 
little  stool  his  foot  wus  on  an'  flung  it  at  me;  then,  a 
nuther  one  pulled  out  a  little  pistil  about  as  big  as  my 
finger  an'  pinted  it;at  me.  Ef  he  hader  shot  me  with 
that  thing,  an'  I'd  a  ever  found  it  out,  I'd  a  made  him 
think  one  of  them  big  hammers  down  at  the  iron 
works  had  hit  him,  but  I  jess  reached  out  an'  caught 
the  two  fightin  ones  by  the  collers  an'  bumped  their 
heads  aginst  one  nuther  untel  it  sounded  like  two  green 
gourds  a  poppin  together.  I  then  made  for  a  nuther 
handful  of  'em,  when,  who  should  cum  up  but  two  of 
them  police  fellers,  with  swords,  an'  tole  me  I  wus  their 
pris'ner.  I  tole  them  I  reckon  not,  for  the  Yankees 
hed  been  tryin'  that  game  for  four  years  an'  hedn't  suc- 
ceeded 3^et;  but  I  sed,  if  I  hod  done  enny thing  wrong, 
(which  I  hedn't)  I  wus  will  in  to  see  the  gencrl  in 
charge,  but  I   wern't  gwine  up  before  no  mayor,  nor 


GOODNIGHT    CAPTURES    RICHMOND.  121 

nutliin  of  that  kind.  I  tole  them  I  hed  a  permit  from 
Generl  Lee,  signed  with  his  own  hand — God  bless 
him! — allowin  me  to  scout  aroun'  when  anywhere  I 
pleased;  that  I  hed  found  it  convenient  to  scout  about 
in  Hichmun,  an'  there  wern't  enn3^body  gwinter  stop 
me  nuther,  ceppen  he  wus  a  better  man  than  I  wus, 
which  wern't  likely.  Well,  ser,  one  of  them  fellers 
give  the  keenest  whissel  I  ever  hyeard,  an',  before  you 
could  say  *  Jack  Eoberson,'  there  wus  a  half  dozen  of 
them  policemen  all  around  me.  Then  I  begin  to  git 
mad  shorenuf.  I  jess  put  my  rifle  down  agin  the  wall, 
an',  squarin  myself,  I  tole  them  to  wade  right  in ;  that 
I  wern't  gwinter  shoot  none  of  'em,  an'  I  could  whup 
a  whole  cowpen  full  of  such  fellers  with  my  fist. 

"  Gentulmen,  you'd  a  thought  there  wus  gwinter  be 
the  dog-gondest  row  right  there — an'  there  woulder 
been,  too.  I  don't  know  what  woulder  happened,  and 
how  it  woulder  ended,  ef  Kernel  DuPree  hadn't  stept 
up  at  that  minit  an'  tole  them  that  he  knowd  me,  an' 
would  stan  'sponsible  for  me ;  that  I  wus  one  of  Generl 
Lee's  trusted  scouts.  There  muster  been  a  thousan 
people  around  there  by  that  time,  an'  you  oughter 
hyeard  'em  holler  when  the  kernel  said  what  he  did — 
then  I  felt  so  good,  I  hollered  too. 

"Them  police  knowd  Kernel  DuPree,  for  he  wus  one 
of  the  big  guns  up  in  the  War  Department,  an'  upon 
his  sayso  they  let  me  alone.  The3^'d  a  better  a  done  it, 
too ;  but  I  wus  mighty  glad  to  see  the  kernel,  I  tell 
you,  for,  if  he  hedn't  a  come  along,  somebody  woulder 
got  hurt. 
6 


122  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"  He  treated  me  like  the  shorenuf  white  man  that 
he  is,  and  axed  me  up  to  dinner  with  him.  I  despise 
a  man  what  will  honey  about  you,  an'  be  so  awful 
glad  to  see  you,  an'  yet  won't  ax  you  home  to  dinner. 
It  makes  me  think  he  is  a  regler  ole  *  stingy  bones',  or 
else  he  aint  got  no  good  dinner. 

"The  Kernel  wanted  to  know  whar  I  wus  stoppin  ,  an' 
he  sorter  laffed  w4ien  I  told  him  I  wus  stoppin'  mostly 
in  the  trenches  down  at  Petersburg — that  I  hed  jest 
run  up  to  Kichmun  on  a  little  bizness  an'  must  git 
back  as  soon  as  possible.  I  axed  him  to  show  me  the 
hosspital  as  I  wanted  to  see  a  man  in  there,an'  didn't 
know  where  the  place  wus.  He  wus  kind,  I  tell  you, 
an'  showed  me  'round  to  a  great  big  buildin'  which  he 
said  wus  the  hosspital,  an'  got  permission  from  the  man 
in  charge  for  me  to  go  through.  After  I  finished  my 
bizness  there  I  went  'round  to  the  War  Department — 
why  they  calls  it  that  name  beats  my  time.  I  didn't 
see  no  cannons,  nor  no  bumshells,  nor  no  nuthin'  that 
looked  like  war.  There  wus  a  little  army  of  fellers  with 
soljer  close  on,  but,  Joe,  you  could  take  a  corporal's 
gyard  of  your  regiment  an'  clean  out  the  hole  consarn. 
I  axed  Kernel  DuPree  what  made  'em  call  it  a  War 
Department,  an'  he  said  it  wus  because  they  managed 
all  the  affairs  of  the  war.  I  then  axed  him  ef  the  man 
at  the  head  of  it  wus  a  soljer,  an*  he  said  no.  I  then 
told  him  that  the  properest  man  to  run  the  bizness  of 
the  war  wus  General  Bob  Lee,  an'  ef  he  hed  to  run  it 
accordin'  to  the  ideers  of  a  man  who  wusn't  a  soljer 
then  the  whole  thing  would  go  a  skinnin'  up  the  spout. 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTURES   KICHMOND.  123 

He  said  lie  wus  afraid  I  wus  right,  but  it  wus  too  late 
now  to  change  things — although  I  answered  him  that 
it  wus  never  too  late  to  try  an'  fix  things  right. 

"The  Kernel  wus  so  busy  that  I  strolled  about  the 
big  house  lookin'  into  the  difFer'nt  rooms  an'  caleerla- 
tin  how  many  stout  fellers  there  wus  who  ought  to  be 
down  in  the  trenches  at  Petersburg,  when  I  could  see 
the  rank  young  devils  a  grinnin'  an'  a  makin  faces  like 
they  thought  I  wus  a  whole  sirkus.  I  continued  to 
walk  around,  payin'  no  attention  to  them  onery  young 
cusses,  lor  I  wus  a  gittin  mighty  resless,  when  wdio 
should  I  run  up  on  but  that  high-flyin'  young  feller, 
John  Barton,  an'  he  a  lookin'  like  'who  but  him.'  He 
w^as  settin  in  a  nice  room  with  a  c^^arpet  on  the  floor, 
an'  hed  his  feet  cocked  up  on  a  desk  smokin'  a  see- 
gar" 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  the  young  man's 
feet  were  smoking  a  cigar,  or  was  it  the  desk  ?"  queried 
Featherstone. 

Goodnight  rose  up  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  trying  to 
smother  his  indignation,  exclaimed — 

"  Looker  here,  Leftenant,  ef  I  didn't  know  you  wus  a 
good  feller  an'  didn't  mean  no  harm,  I'd  fling  you  over 
them  breastworks.  If  I  didn't  I  hope  I  may  desert  to 
the  Yankees  the  next  minit.  Ef  you  don't  keep  a 
gyard  on  that  long  tongue  o'  yourn  you'll  step  on  it 
some  day.  How's  a  man's  feet  gwinter  smoke  a  see- 
gar  ?    An'  a  desk  ?    That's  one  of  your  fool  questions." 

Featherstone  laughingly  apologized,  and  when  peace 
reigned  once  more  our  giant  resumed  his  story. 


124  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"AVell,  as  I  wus  a  saj^in' — his  feet  were  cocked  upon 
a  desk,  an'  he  wus  smokin'  a  seegar — dog-gone  my 
skin !  who  ever  liyeard  uv  sech  a  fool  question  ? 
An'  to  think  that  a  regler  fightin'  soljer,  one  of 
Generl  Bob  Lee's  own  men,  should  a  axed  it !  We'd 
all  better  quit  an'  go  home  ef  soljers  are  gwinter  lose 
what  little  senses  they  ever  had.  Leftenant,  I  don't 
see  how  you  coulder  done  it.  It's  amazin'.  Now  ef  it 
had  been  one  of  them  clarks  up  to  the  War  Depart- 
ment it  woulder  seemed  more  nacherl  like,  but  fer  a 
regler  soljer,  who  eats  gunpowder  for  breakfast,  minny 
balls  for  dinner,  an'  scraps  of  cold  bumshells  for  sup- 
per, it  is  too  redickerlus.  I  don't  see  how  you  coulder 
done  it." 

"Hold  up,  old  fellow,"  interposed  Joe,  "and  don't 
kick  at  an  innocent  little  joke.     It  was  all  in  fun." 

"  Innercent  little  joke,  is  itj?  and  all  in  fun  ?     All 

right.     As  I  wus  a  sayin' he  was  cocked  up  on  a 

desk,  an'  his  feet  were  smokin — no,  the  desk  wus  smo- 
kin' a oh,  damn  it!  you  got  me  so  all-fired  mixed 

up,  I  won't  tell  the  story  nohow^ ! " 

"Go  on,  go  on !  "  shouted  both  the  young  men,  "we 
are  interested  and  want  to  hear  the  whole  story."  Joe 
continued:  "If  Feathcrstone  interrupts  you  again  I'll 
put  him  on  double  duty." 

Goodnight's  wrath,  soon  cooled  down,  and  he  went 
on  with  his  narrative. 

"  As  I  wus  sayin,  he  was — er — well,  he  looked  at  me 
an'  called  out :  'Hello,  Goodnight  I  come  in,  old  feller, 
an'  tell  me  all  vou  know  in  about  two  minits' — an* 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTURES    BICHMOND.  125 

if  I  had,  he'd  a  had  to  had  his  head  enlarged.  He 
never  offered  to  shake  hans,  but  motioned  me  to  a 
cheer  with  a  wave  as  grand  as  ef  he  wus  the  king  of 
Mountezumer. 

"' Why,  John  Barton/ "  sezi,  "*you  appears  to  be 
hevin  a  powerful  nice,  easy  time.' "  "  '  Captain  John 
Barton,  at  your  service,' "  sez  he. 

"'Generl  Caleb  Knight,  at  your  service,  dog-gone 
you,'  sez  I,  an*  with  that  he  laffed  an'  to>e  me  to  set 
down.  I  drawed  up  one  of  them  fancy-lookin'  cheers 
with  lion's  legs  fer  feet  an'  two  big  long  tails  stickin' 
up  fer  the  back,  an'  seatin'  myself  close  to  a  desk  I 
cocked  up  my  feet  too— but  Lawd,  you'd  a  thought 
there  wus  a  yearthquake !  Jest  as  I  throwed  myself 
back  to  be  comfortable  an'  easy-like  the  pizen  ole  cheer 
give  'way  an'  down  I  went"  on  my  back — kerwallux, 
shakin'  a  half  bushel  of  plaster  off  the  ole  buildin'. 
Gentulmen,  you  oughter  heard  that  feller  laff!  He 
like  to  a  busted ;  but  I  lipt  up  quickern  you  could  say 
'scat'  and  axed  him  what  I  owed  him  fer  that  cheer. 
Well,  ser,  he  laffed,  an'  he  laffed,  an'  he  laffed,  untel  I 
told  him  that  a  fdler  what  could  be  so  jolly  these  hard 
times  oughter  be  out  in  front  fightin'  Yankees  an' 
livin'  on  corn  bred  an'  bacon.  He  sorter  winched  at 
that,  an*  said  he  wus  servin'  his  country  very  faithful 
where  he  wus,  an'  onless  things  wus  better  managed  in 
front  than  what  they  wus  he  would  stay  in  Richmun. 
That  riled  me  agin,  I  tell  you,  so  I  up  an'  told  him 
that  all  them  able-bodied  department  clarks  oughter 
go  out  an'  fite,  an*  let  wimmen  and  crippled  soljers  do 


12G  TOM    AND   JOE. 

the  writin'  an'  smokin'  of  seegars;  I  didn't  see  no  other 
kind  of  v/ork  goin'  on,  nuther. 

"  Then  he  axed  me  how  you  wus  a  gittin'  along,  an* 
when  I  told  liiin  you  wus  gitten  so  sevigrus  that  you 
wern't  happy  onless  you  hed  a  Yankee  every  day  fer 
dinner,  he  'lowed  you  muster  improved  powerful  of 
late  years.  Then,  ser,  I  up  an*  told  him  that  there 
never  wus  a  time,  sence  you  wus  knee  high  to  a  doodle- 
bug, that  you  wouldn't  walk  over  red-hot  grindstones, 
barefooted  an'  blinefold,  ef  you  seed  it  were  in  your 
line  of  duty — an'  then  I  hit  down  on  his  desk  with  my 
fist,  and  sez  I,  ef  there's  enny  man  on  the  top  side  of 
this  ole  earth  that  would  say  that  Joe  wern't  as  brave 
a  man  as  there  wus  in  this  whole  Southern  Confed- 
eracy, with  Europe  an'  other  heathen  nations  throw'd 
in  fer  good  count,  I  would  pound  him  untel  he  had  the 
bline  staggers.  "Would  you  bleeve  it,  ser,  the  feller 
jess  laffed  agin  an'  axed  me  if  I  had  took  a  contract  to 
break  up  all  the  furniture  in  the  "War  Department.  He 
is  that  ov/dashus.  I  did  split  the  top  of  his  desk,  but 
they  do  make  some  furniture  so  trifling  now-a-days 
that  it  ain't  good  fer  nuthin'  but  to  look  at.  Gimme 
a  good  hickry  chair  with  a  cow-skin  bottom,  will  you, 
an'  I  lay  I  won't  be  tumblin'  about  on  the  floor  like  a 
great  lummux.  I  didn't  stay  very  long  in  John  Bar- 
ton's room,  for  I  wus  feared  I'd  break  some  more  fur- 
niture, an'  I  know'd  ef  he  got  to  givin'  me  too  much 
of  his  slack  jaw  about  the  army  somebody  would  hafter 
hold  me — an'  there  wern't  no  six  clarks  in  the  "War  De- 
partment what  could  do  it.     "When  I  told  him  good- 


GOODNIGHT    CAPTURES   RICHMOND.  127 

bye  I  'lowd  I  reckon  he  would  be  down  shortly  with  a 
musket  to  run  Generl  Grant  off;  but  he  aint  comin'. 
He  told  me  somethin'  about  gwine  to  hell. 

"  Gentulmen,  wouldn't  it  do  me  good  to  see  about  a 
dozen  of  Phil  Sheriden's  fast-ridin'  fellers  git  after  him ; 
but,  Lawd  !  one  man  would  be  enuf,  an'  that  with  only 
one  leg,  too.  To  hear  that  feller  talk  you'd  think  that 
Stonewall  Jackson  an'  Bob  Lee  had  both  gone  to  him 
fer  all  their  war  knowledges." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  that  man,  Bar- 
ton," remarked  Featherstone. 

"I  ain't  got  nuthin'  agin  him,  but  I  would  like  fer 
him  to  do  some  fightin'  as  Avell  as  talkin',  an'  he'd  bet- 
ter tie  up  his  jaw  about  Joe. 

"After  all  that  rukus  in  John  Barton's  room,  I 
stood  around  in  the  corrydors,  first  on  one  foot  an'  then 
on  tother  like  an  ole  gander,  an^  waited  an'  waited  fer 
the  Kernel's  dinner  time,  'til  the  sides  of  my  stumuck 
wern't  mor'n  a  inch  apart.  Then,  ser,  after  a  spell, 
when  I  lied  about  got  over  my  longin  fer  dinner  an' 
wus  yearnin  fer  supper,  the  Kernel  come  out  of  his 
office  an  tole  me  it  wus  time  to  go  up  to  the  house.  We 
got  into  a  fine  kerridge  an'  went  a  bulgin  up  the  street 
like  we  were  a  goin  for  the  doctor.  Bimeby  we  got  to 
a  i^urty  place  away  up  on  the  hill,  with  a  big  house  set 
back  in  the  shrubry,  when  we  got  out  an'  walked  right 
in  like  it  b'longed  to  us.  He  showed  me  into  the  parlor 
an'  axed  me  to  take  a  seat;  but  I  looked  at  the  cheers 
a  minit,  and  then  I  told  him  I  hed  broke  all  the  furni- 
ture down  in  the  "War  Department  that  a  man  was 


128  TOM    AND    JOE. 

'lewd  to  break  in  one  day,  an  of  lie  had  a  good  strong 
stool,  or  a  bench,  or  a  boss-block,  or  ennything  that 
would  hold  me,  I  would  be  thankful  to  rest  awhile. 
He  laffed  fit  to  kill  when  I  told  him  what  lied  hap- 
pened in  John  Barton's  room,  an'  goin  into  one  corner 
he  fetched  a  little  square-looking  box  of  a  thing,  all 
kivered  over  with  flowers  an'  bumble-bees  an'  things, 
and  he  'lowed  he  reckon  that  would  hold  me.  He 
called  it  a  otterman.  I  sot  down  easy-like  (of  course 
you  know  they  warn't  real  live  bumble-bees,  or  I 
wouldn't  'er  set  on  them),  and  directly  that  purty  little 
black-eyed  gal  come  a  trottin  in  an'  shook  my  han', 
called  me  'Mister  Goodnight,'  an'  'lowd  she  wus  proud 
of  me,  an'  wus  awful  glad  to  see  me — I  know  why, 
though. 

*'Ef  you  beleeve  me,  gentulmen,  I  coulder  eat  that 
purty  little  thing  right  thar,  without  salt  nur  sliooger — 
I  wus  so  hungry;  an'  when  she  said  'Papa,  dinner  's 
ready,'  I  jest  like  to  er  fainted.  Exceptin'  of  Susan, 
there  never  wus  sech  a  gal. 

"May  be  you  think  I  didn't  eat  any  dinner,  calcer- 
latin'  that  my  mind  would  er  been  distracted  among 
sech  grand  folks;  but  you  don't  know  the  ermashated 
condition  of  my  stumuck.  Gentulmen,  I  fally  spread 
myself." 

"Another  triumph  of  matter  over  mind,"  said  Feath- 
erstone. 

"'Tend  to  your  own  bizness,"  growled  the  giant. 
"Who's  telling  this  stor}^,  anyhow?  AVhy,  Joe,  they 
did  hev  the  best  truck  outside  of  ole  North  Carliney. 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTJJRES    RICHMOND.  129 

There  wus  taters — sweet  an'  Irish;  an'  they  lied  ham, 
man — shorenuf  ham.  They  hed  chicken  dooins  fixed 
up  in  dumplins,  an'  there  wus  a  great  hunk  of  roas' 
beef  that  would  er  fed  our  mess;  turnips  an'  biled 
pork,  an'  hash — Lawd,  that  wus  noble  hash !  Jest  as 
soft  and  juicy.  Then  they  hed  real  flour  biskits,  of 
which  I  et  about  eleven,  an'  would  er  made  a  dozen, 
but  the  apple  pie,  with  happy-day  sauce  on  it,  come 
in  jest  then,  so  I  wus  obleeged  to  take  a  fresh  holt. 
Bimeby,  when  we  got  through  eaten,  an'  eaten,  an' 
eaten,  until  j^ou'd  a  thought  we  wus  fixin'  fer  a  seege, 
an'  I  hed  to  let  out  two  holes  in  my  belt,  they  brought 
in  some  coffee.  Gentulmen,  it  wus  coffee,  too.  No 
beans,  nor  goobers,  nor  parched  taters,  nor  okry,  but 
jest  the  real  stuff  that  run  the  blockade  from  Barzeel, 
an'  cost  ten  dollars  a  pound.  I  do  think  it  was  the 
best  stuff — an'  then  that  purty  little  gal,  ]\Iiss  Ginny, 
she  poured  it  out — nor  she  didn't  give  me  one  of  them 
little  doll  cups,  nuther;  but,  Joe,  she  jest  smiled  so 
sweet  like  an'  sed:  'Mr.  Goodnight,  you  soljers  are  so 
fond  of  coffee,  I'll  give  you  the  big  cup.'  An' she  filled 
a  great  big  chany  thing,  all  striped  and  gole,  plum  to 
the  brim,  ser,  an'  runnin'  over.  She  took  up  the  spoon 
in  the  purtiest  little  white  han'  I  ever  saw — not  even 
exceptin'  Susan's — an'  put  in  three  pilin'  spoonfuls  of 
shuger;  but,  Lawd,  man,  she  needn't  er  wasted  enny 
shuger  at  all,  fer  if  she  had  er  jest  stirred  it  with  her 
little  finger  the  whole  thing  would  er  turned  to  'lasses 
in  a  minit.  That  was  a  notable  dinner,  an'  when  we 
got  through  it  was  plum  dark." 


130  TOM   AND   JOE. 

Here  the  giant  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and,  happy 
over  the  recollection  of  those  good  things,  turned  his 
face  up  to  the  stars  and  started  off  into  dreams  of  "real 
flour  biskits  "  and  Susan.  But  Joe,  who  could  not  sleep, 
inquired : 

"  Hold  on,  old  fellow — you  haven't  told  us  what  took 
you  up  to  Richmond?" 

"The  kyars,  man — the  kyars.  You  don't  think  I 
wus  gwinter  walk  all  that  way  through  the  mud,  do 
you?" 

"Nobody  but  a  nachell-born  fool  would  er  made 
sech  a  answer,"  drawled  Featherstone,  imitating  the 
giant's  style  of  speaking. 

Joe  broke  out  into  a  ringing  laugh,  that  echoed  across 
the  valley  against  the  enemy's  wall  and  caused  one 
watchful  Yank  to  remark  to  another: 

"  Them  Rebs  would  laugh  and  sing  if  the  last  trump 
were  sounding." 

"  You  are  even  with  me  now,  Leftenant,  but  I  won't 
hold  no  malice  agin  you,  for  you  are  a  good  feller  an' 
a  regler  soljer.  An'  Joe,  ef  you  really  wants  to  know 
what  fur  I  went  up  to  Richmun',  I'll  tell  you  now,  fer 
I  may  never  git  another  chance.  You  see,  it  wus  day 
before  yistiddy  niornin',  while  I  was  cleanin'  up  my 
rifle  and  gittin'  ready  for  a  scout,  a  young  feller  what 
looked  like  he  wus  jest  outer  the  valley  of  the  shadder 
of  death  come  up  an'  teched  me  on  the  arm,  an'sezhe: 
'  Is  you  Caleb  Knight,  what  used  to  live  in  old  North 
Carliney  jest  before  the  war  V 


GOODNIGHT    CAFTUKES    RICHMOND.  131 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  what  sort  of  a  game  they  miglit 
be  tryin'  to  put  up  on  me,  so  I  answers  him  sorter  cau- 
tious like — 'Prehaps  I  mout  be  an'  prehaps  I  mouten't. 
What  you  gwinter  do  about  it?' 

"He  smiled  a  sort  of  a  graveyard  looking  smile  an' 
tole  me  if  I  were  Caleb  Knight,  there  wus  a  feller  up 
to  Richmun,  in  the  hosspital  who  wanted  to  see  me,  an' 
ef  I  didn't  come  quick  it  would  be  too  late.  When  I 
axed  him  who  the  feller  was,  an'  what  he  wanted,  he 
said  he  didn't  know  what  the  man  wanted,  but  his  name 
wus  Pete  Brownlow.  Gentulmen,  you  coulder  knocked 
me  down  with  a  crowbar,  I  wus  that  staggered — but  I 
told  the  young  feller  I  wus  much  obleegedtohim,that 
I  wus  the  man  he  wanted,  an'  that  I  would  go  the 
fust  train.  I  took  the  kyars  that  left  a  leetle  before 
daylight  an'  I've  told  you  what  took  place  in  Rich- 
mun, exceptin'  when  I  wus  visitin'  the  hosspital. 

"  When  I  went  into  the  room  where  the  poor  feller 
lay  I  seed  in  a  minit  that  the  angel  of  death  wus  a 
knockin'  at  the  door.  He  wus  lay  in'  there  so  still  an' 
pale  that  it  weakened  me  plum  down  to  look  at  him, 
but  I  walked  up  to  his  bed  an'  he  knowed  me  at  once. 
He  helt  out  a  poor  tremblin'  han',  an'  to  save  my  life 
I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  of  how  different  it  looked  from 
the  time  he  hit  me  such  a  dip  in  the  stumuck,  but  I  took 
holt  of  it  an'  told  him  I  wus  sorry  to  find  him  in  such 
a  hitch.  He  'lowd  he  wus  glad  to  see  me  before  he  died. 
I  axed  him  how  he  knowed  where  I  wus,  to  send  for 
me,  an'  he  said  he  had  saw  me  fifty  times  sence  the 
battle  of  the  Wilderness,  but  didn't  let  on  that  he 


132  TOM    AND    JOE. 

knowd  me,  but  now  when  lie  wus  about  to  die,  he 
wanted  me  to  fergive  him  for  the  wrong  he  hed  done 
me  years  ago  about  Susan.  I  told  him  I  couldn't  har- 
bor no  resentment  agin  a  man  in  his  fix,  an'  he  seemed 
kinder  relieved  like.  Then  he  told  me  how  he  wus  led 
by  his  great  luv  fer  Susan  to  tell  her  that  he  knowd  I 
wer  gettin'  ready  to  marry  Jane  Bridgewater,  a  long- 
legged  gal  what  lived  ten  miles  down  the  river  in  Tur- 
key Valley,  an'  wus  only  fooling  with  her  (as  ef  enny- 
body  coulder  fooled  with  Susan),  but  sez  he:  'It  didn't 
do  me  no  good,  fer  Susan  never  would  listen  to  me,  an' 
appeared  so  mopy  an'  tired-like  as  ef  she  wus  waitin' 
fer  death  to  come.  I  kept  hangin'  about  her  'til  the 
war  broke  out,  an'  then  bein'  desprit,  I  joined  the  army 
not  keerin'  how  soon  I  wus  killed.  I  went  into  battle 
after  battle,  but  somehow  the  bullets  didn't  tech  me 
until  along  about  Christmas  week,  when  the  snow 
storm  wus  so  big  I  stood  on  gyard  an'  didn't  have  no 
overcoat,  so  I  took  cold  ;  and  now  the  fever  in  my  lungs 
is  a  dragin'  me  off  d,ay;by  day.  I  hate  to  die  this  way, 
w^hen  it's  so  easy  to  die  in  battle.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber Caleb,  at  Cold  Harbor,  there  wus  mor'n  ten  thou- 
sand dead  Yankees  in  front  of  our  lines,  and  maybe  I 
wus  the  only  man  in  that  battle  who  wanted  to  die  an' 
couldn't,  an'  agin  at  the  Crater,  I  wusn't  fifty  yards  off 
when  men  w^us  tore  all  to  pieces,  but  the  good  Lord 
knowd  best.  He  lies  fergiv  me,  an'  if  you  and  Susan 
"Warner  will  fergive  me,  I'm  ready  to  go.'  '  Ain't  Susan 
married?'  sez  I.  *No,'  sez  he,  an'ef  you  ain't  a  fool 
you'll  go  to  her  jest  as  strate  as  the  crow  flies.' " 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTURES   RICHMOND.  133 

"Gentulraen,  I  did  feel  so  good  jest  then  that  I  coulder 
hollered,  but  the  poor  feller  watched  me  so  close,  aiV 
looked  so  anxious,  that  I  wouldn'ter  give  hira  pain  fer 
a  bushel  of  money.  I  sot  by  him  after  that,  but  he 
didn't  last  long — there  come  a  big  spell  of  coffin,  an' 
then  turnin'  over  on  his  side  I  hyeard  him  give  along 
sigh  an'  he  appeared  to  settle  down  to  rest.  That  sigh 
muster  been  his  last  breath.  After  a  while  they  put 
him  in  a  box,  an'  takin'  him  in  a  wagon  with  four  or 
five  other  dead  men  they  rolled  away  to  the  buryin* 
ground.  After  a  short  time  more,  when  I  was  a  waitin' 
down  at  the  department,  I  hyeard  a  far-away  roll  of 
muskets  an'  I  knowd  that  was  the  last  of  Pete  Brov^m- 
low,  until,  as  the  preachers  tell  us,  the  great  God  will 
come  in  storms,  an'  thunder,  an'  trumpets,  an'  shoutin' 
of  angels,  to  call  up  the  dead  outer  their  graves.  I  tell 
you,  Joe,  that  ideer  of  the  dead  comin'  up  outer  their 
graves  is  a  strange  thing  an'  makes  me  tremble.  It 
does  seem  like  some  of  the  poor  dead  soljers  would 
come  up  to  see  how  people  wus  carryin'  on  in  Eich- 
mun'.  They  wus  a  havin'  the  biggest  time  the  other 
night  at  a  ball  fer  the  benefit  of  the  hosspital — sech  a 
fiddlin'  an'  dancin,  like  it  wus  in  the  days  of  Solermun 
an'  Goliar  when  the  fire  and  bumshells  come  down. 
They'd  better  be  a  prayin'." 

"  Camping  here  among  these  graves  must  have  put 
that  thought  of  the  resurrection  into  your  mind.  Good- 
night," said  Joe.  "  That  doctrine  has  disturbed  men's 
minds  in  all  ages,  but  we  need  not  let  it  trouble  us. 
The  omnipotence  of  God  settles  that  question  in  my^ 


134  TOM   AND    JOE. 

mind,  and  I  accept  the  Bible  teaching.  It  is  folly  for 
me  to  discard  a  truth  because  I  cannot  fully  compre- 
hend it.  For  instance — we  soldiers  often  see  a  strong 
man  fall  dead  in  battle;  there  is  a  small  bullet-hole 
through  his  body  and  he  lies  before  us  dead.  We  say 
that  he  is  dead.  Almost  his  entire  body  is  as  sound 
as  yours,  yet  you  know  he  must  be  buried  out  of  sight 
in  a  little  while  because  of  decay.  No  human  intelli- 
gence can  comprehend  the  change  that  has  come  over 
the  poor  fellow — yet  the  awful  fact  remains  unchal- 
lenged. You  say  the  bullet  killed  him — but  how  did 
it  kill  him?  A  ball  has  passed  through  the  brain; 
yet  that  perfect  foot  cannot  walk  away.  He  is  still 
and  pulseless.  That  is  what  we  call  death  ;  yet  we  no 
more  comprehend  it  after  six  thousand  years  of  inves- 
tigation than  did  our  first  parents  when  looking  with 
astonishment  upon  the  murdered  Abel.  Life  was  there 
a,  moment  ago.  Three  days  ago  poor  Pete  Brownlow 
was  quivering  with  excitement  as  he  waited  for  your 
word  of  forgiveness — but  now  you  might  shout  your- 
self hoarse,  in  vain.  We  cannot  understand  either  life 
or  death,  yet  we  question  neither. 

"My  faith  is  very  simple.  I  believe  that  the  all- 
powerful  God  is  able  to  do  whatsoever  He  will  with 
this  poor  body  of  mine.  If  He  has  any  further  use 
for  it  He  will  take  care  of  it.  That  is  enough  for  me, 
and  I  feel  in  my  soul  that  however  the  end  may  come, 
I  will  arise  perfect  in  all  my  parts,  ready  to  answer  the 
roll-call  of  eternity,  and  ready  to  follow  the  Great  Cap- 
tain as  I  have  tried  to  follow  our  own  Uncle  Robert." 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTURES  RICHMONB.  135 

Joe  looked  away  into  the  steller  depths  and  wondered 
if  the  freed  spirit  would  in  its  flight  beyond  those 
mighty  orbits  be  able  to  view  and  comprehend  the 
mysteries  of  creation;  then,  rising  to  his  feet,  he  lis- 
tened to  the  boom  of  heavy  guns  from  the  walls  of 
Fort  Steadman,  and  heard  the  crash  of  shells  falling 
upon  the  doomed  city.  Suddenly  he  hears  the  click 
of  a  musket  and  the  low  challenge  of  the  sentry : 
""Who  comes  here?" — and  the  quick  answer — "A 
friend." 

"Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign." 

A  young  man  advanced  rapidly,  and  the  words  were 
whispered :  "  Remember  the  Crater."  Then  coming 
forward  to  where  Joe  w^as  standing,  he  said  :  "A  dis- 
patch for  Major  Mabry."  "I  am  he,"  said  Joe,  and 
taking  the  missive  he  crouched  behind  the  breastwork, 
w^iere  he  struck  a  match  and  read  by  its  flickering 
light  words  that  made  the  blood  bound  through  every 
vein  and  thrilled  his  heart  with  a  soldier's  joy. 

".Camp  Lee,  Petersburg, 
"March  24th,  1865. 

"  The  Commander-in-Chief  has  ordered  this  division 
to  storm  Fort  Steadman  to-morrow  morning  at  4 
o'clock.  The  Major-General  notifies  you  to  bring  your 
regiment  to  headquarters  soon  after  midnight,  ready 
for  action,  and  relying  upon  your  known  devotion  to 
duty  he  expects  you  to  lead  the  attacking  column. 

''  John  B.  Gordon, 

"  To  Major  Joseph  Mabry,  '' Major-General, 

"In  fronts 


136  TOM   AND   JOE. 

Goodnight  was  sound  asleep,  lying  prone  upon  the 
earth  at  the  foot  of  the  battered  cedar ;  but  our  gallant 
Major  and  his  brave  young  Georgia  friend  were  still 
restless.  We  cannot  tell  the  burden  of  their  thoughts, 
but  as  Joe  paced  up  and  down  the  little  path  leading 
to  the  main  line  no  doubt  he  thought  fondly  of  loved 
ones  away  off  in  Louisiana,  while  Featherstone's  fancy 
strayed  along  the  banks  of  the  Chattahoochie. 

"  You  were  talking  awhile  ago  about  the  future  of  our 
bodies,"  said  Featherstone,  "  but  what  about  our  spirits? 
Do  you  think  they  linger  here  on  earth  amid  the 
scenes  of  their  former  joys  and  sorrows,  or  have  the}^ 
a  'place  of  perfect  rest — some  middle  state  between 
earth  and  heaven?  That  baby,  for  instance,  wdiose 
little  grave  is  at  your  feet,  and  the  soul  of  Goodnight's 
friend,  Brownlow,  what  are  they  doing?  I  wish  to 
know,  for  I  am  groping  and  cannot  see  my  way." 

"There  are  many  things  we  would  like  to  know,  my 
dear  fellow,"  answered  Joe,  "but  the  knowledge  might 
be  hurtful  instead  of  beneficial.  The  good  Book  tells 
us  all  that  we  need  to  know.  It  is  very  explicit  in 
regard  to  the  body,  also  the  final  destiny  of  the  soul ; 
but  we  know  not  whether  the  latter  assumes  new  and 
iiigher  duties  at  once,  or  enters  into  a  sort  of  proba- 
tionary existence  until  the  final  judgment.  The  con- 
dition of  ' perfect  rest '  is  surely  not  one  of  idleness — it 
probably  means  entire  freedom  from  all  that  is  hurtful 
or  wicked.      A  soul  with  nothing  to  do  would  rust  out." 

"That  is  all  very  pretty,  my  dear  Major,  but  I  see 
3"ou  don't  positively  know  much  more  about  it  than  I 


GOODNIGHT   CAPTURES   RICHMOND.  137 

do.  If  the  soul  has  new  and  higher  duties  to  perform 
I  would  like  to  know  where  the  necessity  is  for  resum- 
ing this  old  body?  It  seems  that  some  souls  have 
been  getting  along  for  several  thousand  years  very 
comfortably  without  the  incumbrance  of  the  body.'* 

"Why  God  proposes  to  resurrect  this  body  I  do  not 
know.  He  made  it  in  his  own  glorious  image  and  is 
unwilling  that  such  a  work  should  be  annihilated,  and 
when  it  is  raised  again,  no  matter  how  battered  and 
disfigured  here,  it  will  rise  a  'glorified  body,'  such  as 
Closes  was  when  he  came  down  from  the  mount  with 
the  radiance  of  Heaven  all  about  him.  But  what  is  the 
use  of  speculating  about  these  things?  I  accept  the 
evidence  of  my  father's  and  motlier's  Bible  and  try  to 
do  my  duty — may  be  by  to-morrow  night,  my  dear 
fellow,  you  and  I  shall  know  the  truth  of  many  things 
which  are  now  conjectures.  Do  you  see  that  flash? — 
now  listen  for  the  roar," — and  it  ciime  booming  through 
the  night  air  like  deep-toned  thunder.  "We  must 
silence  those  guns  or  evacuate  the  city.  General 
Lee  has  ordered  our  division  to  storm  the  fort  at  day- 
break to-morrow,  and  at  midnight  we  are  to  move  into 
position.  Look  at  these  poor  fellows  now  scattered  all 
along  the  line  and  sleeping  under  the  stars  like  they 
were  at  home.  You  disturb  them  now  and  in  an  in- 
stant they  will  spring  up,  gun  in  hand,  ready  for  work, 
but  when  those  stars  gleam  out  once  more  most  of  these 
brave  hearts  will  be  forever  stilled,  and  no  sound  will 
1)6  able  to  break  their  eternal  sleep,  except  the  trump 
that  shall  awaken  us  all  to  a  new  existence.  I  examined 


138  TOM   AND   JOEJ. 

the  defenses  at  Fort  Steadman  as  carefully  as  possible 
three  days  since,  and  I  tell  you,  Lieutenant,  that  the  man 
who  marches  up  to  the  front  of  those  walls  stumbles 
over  his  grave  at  every  step.  Compose  yourself  and  go 
to  sleep,  my  boy, — you  will  need  all  your  strength  for 
to-morrow's  battle." 

Joe  continued  his  restless  walk,  until  stopping  at  a 
little  mound  where  floated  a  faded  banner,  he  leaned 
against  the  staff  and  looked  away  to  the  distant  South 
where  the  stars  were  shining  so  gently  down  on  dear 
old  Belhaven,  while  Tom  was  dreaming  of  battles  to  be 
fought  and  glory  to  be  won. 

The  great  guns  had  now  ceased  their  thunder  and 
the  solemn  hush  of  night  had  settled  over  both  armies. 
Only  the  breeze  from  the  distant  Chesapeake  moaned 
through  the  pine  tops  or  whispered  among  the  sedge, 
and  the  hostile  warriors  were  in  friendly  sleep. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  sentinels  of  both  armies 

paused  on  their  rounds  to  listen  as  a  clear  voice  sang : 

*'  I  dream  of  Jennie  and  my  heart  bows  low, 

Never  more  to  meet  her  where  the  wild  waters  flow." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


TOM'S  BATTERY. 


n^OM  did  not  go  to  the  wars,  but  remembering  his 
Y  promise  to  Joe  and  heeding  the  earnest  wishes  of 
father  and  mother,  he  remained  at  home  and  became 
a  very  useful  boy.  Oftentimes  as  he  saw  his  legs  grow 
long  and  felt  the  strength  of  young  manhood  expand- 
ing his  whole  frame,  the  desire  to  go  away  and  fight 
his  country's  battles  with  Joe  became  well-nigh  over- 
powering, and  in  desperation  he  sought  his  father  one 
day  to  beg  for  that  permission,  the  lack  of  which  only 
prevented  his  becoming  a  soldier. 

"Why,  father,  I  can  fight  and  I  can  shoot  as  well  as 
Joe  ever  could,  and  I  know  I'm  not  a  coward.  See 
what  a  famous  fellow  he  has  become,  and  just  look  how 
that  Richmond  paper  that  Col.  DuPreesent  you  praises 
liis  gallantry !  He  is  a  perfect  hero,  and  here  I  am  a 
poor,  miserable  stay-at-home,  with  no  chance  to  do 
anything." 

Then  the  poor  fellow  burst  into  tears,  and  leaning 
his  head  over  on  the  table — the  same  table  where  the 
Judge  had  sorrowed  and  prayed  the  night  before  Joe's 
departure — he  hid  his  face  in  his  arms.  Veiy  tenderly 
Judge  Mabry  stroked  his  boy's  hair,  and  with  a  father's 
affection  softening  his  voice  responded  to  this  burst  of 
childish  grief. 

(139) 


140  TOM   AND   JOE. 

"My  son,  you  are  very  dear  to  our  hearts,  and  we 
would  deny  you  no  wish  that  we  think  proper  should 
he  indulged,  but  I  must  continue  to  be  firm  with  you 
and  control  you  as  I  think  is  for  your  good.  In  the 
first  place,  you  are  yet  too  young,  and  although  as 
large  as  many  boys  of  twenty  you  are  hardly  sixteen. 
It  is  not  expected  that  the  children  shall  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  this  war.  In  the  next  place  you  are  doing  more 
good  at  home  raising  corn  and  meat  for  the  army  than 
if  you  had  captured  a  battery." 

At  the  mention  of  that  heroic  performance  Tom's 
tears  flowed  afresh.  "  You  certainly  have  not  forgotten 
how  General  Adams  called  you  '  A  gallant  young  Com- 
missary' when  you  delivered  him  one  hundred  bushels 
of  corn  for  his  troopers  last  fall?" 

*'Yes,  I  haven't  forgotten  it,''  replied  the  boy;  "but 
what  sort  of  cheap  praise  is  that,  and  who  wants  it? 
Might  as  well  have  called  Uncle  Josh,  who  drove  the 
wagon,  ^a  noble  old  bull-whacker.'  The  war  is  nearly 
ended,  so  you  said  the  other  day,  and  it's  all  because 
General  Lee  needs  soldiers  and  cannot  get  tiiem.  I 
would  rather  live  one  week  fighting  for  my  countr}^ 
under  him  than  ten  years  of  peaceful  indolence.  Why 
don't  men  go  when  he  is  calling  for  them  so  earnestly? 
Here  are  these  cavalry  fellows  raring  around  all  over 
the  country  and  running  every  time  the  Yankees  come 
out  from  the  river." 

"  Hush,  my  son  !  You  are  slandering  some  of  the 
best  and  bravest  men  of  the  South.  All  they  require 
is  to  be  taken  away  from  home  and  given  a  taste  of 


tom's  battery.  141 

military  discipline.  We  have  found  out  that  men  will 
not  fight  at  h.ome  when  they  can  avoid  it." 

The  Judge  had  stated  a  truth  that  military  men 
were  slow  to  learn  and  did  not  fully  realize  until  the 
bulk  of  the  Confederate  army  was  demoralized. 

"  Let  me  say  further,  my  son,  that  if  it  w^ere  neces- 
sary for  you  to  go  we  would  not  withhold  our  consent, 
but  you  can  do  no  good.  If  the  men  are  tired  of  fight- 
ing and  will  not  fill  up  the  depleted  ranks  of  the  army, 
certainly  the  children  cannot  be  expected  to  do  so. 
Besides,  my  dear  son,  I  am  growing  old  very  fast  now 
and  your  mother  will  need  your  strong  young  arm  to 
lean  upon.  You  know  it  will  be  but  a  short  time 
when  the  negroes  will  be  freed,  and  we  will  be  left  with 
only  this  worn  old  plantation,  should  our  conquerors 
allow  us  that  much;  then  who  will  stand  between  us 
and  starvation  should  our  brave  Joe  never  return? 
You  must  recollect,  also,  that  Joe  in  his  last  letter 
urged  that  you  be  kept  at  home." 

Tom's  vaulting  ambition  w^as  again  brought  to  earth, 
but  as  he  left  the  room  he  fired  this  parting  shot : 

"  I  was  born  about  five  years  too  late,  or  I  ought  to 
have  been  a  girl  " 

Then  running  out  to  the  stable  he  saddled  young 
Tudor  and  rushed  like  one  possessed  of  a  devil  away 
up  the  road  towards  the  big  pasture,  and  past  the  tree 
where  he  killed  his  first  squirrel.  He  did  not  stop  this 
time  to  admire  the  famous  tree,  nor  did  he  stop  the 
fiftieth  part  of  a  second  as  he  returned. 


142  TOM    AND   JOE. 

If  Tom  went  up  the  road  like  one  possessed  of  a  devil, 
he  came  back  in  a  few  minutes  like  one  pursued  by  a  le- 
gion of  devils,  and  yelling  "  Yankees !  '*  **  Yankees ! "  at 
every  jump;  nor  did  he  stop  at  the  house,  for  just  as  he 
reached  the  corner  of  the  yard  pop,  j^op,  pop,  came  the 
sound  of  a  half  dozen  pistols  and  a  party  of  Federal 
cavalry  came  thundering  dow^n  the  road.  Tom's  doc- 
trine was  not  of  the  "turn  the  other  cheek"  order,  but 
"  an  eye  for  an  eye  "  pleased  him  better,  and  he  never 
received  a  blow  in  his  life  that  he  did  not  endeavor  to 
return  the  favor.  He  carried  in  those  days  one  of 
those  marvelous  pistols  known  as  the  "pepper-box," 
and  it  never  forsook  him  in  the  hour  of  need.  It  was 
the  same  ridiculous  weapon  that  Mark  Twain  forever 
immortalized  as  "The  Allen,"  and  its  usual  custom 
was  to  go  off — all  five  barrels  at  once.  Turning  in  his 
saddle  Tom  pointed  the  machine  up  the  road  towards 
the  enemy  and  shut  his  eyes  while  it  scattered  five 
small  bullets  over  the  neighborhood.  Then  he  devoted 
his  entire  attention  to  moving  on  down  the  road.  He 
never  stopped,  but  clearing  a  five-barred  gate  like  a 
fox-hunter,  struck  out  for  tall  timber  with  never  a 
thought  of  glory  and  no  present  desire  to  storm  a 
battery,  but  full  to  overflow^ing  with  a  yearning  for 
the  swamp  and  its  peaceful  haunts.  A  few^  more  use- 
less shots  at  him  as  he  crossed  the  valley,  and  the 
friendly  shadow  of  the  forest  opened  for  our  young 
man  and  took  him  into  its  protection,  where  w^e  will 
leave  him  to  get  over  his  scare  while  we  return  to  Bel- 


143 

haven,  which  for  the  first  time  the  raiding  enemy  had 
reached. 

As  our  Tom's  first  frantic  shout  aroused  the  family, 
the  old  cook,  Aunt  Viney,  came  rushing  in,  crying: 

"  Lawdy,  lawdy  !  Mistis !  0,  Mistis !  Hyonder  cums 
dem  Yankees,  an'  they  trineter  kill  Mos  Tom."  Then 
yelling  to  the  passing  bo}^ — "Run,  Mos  Tom,  run! 
dem  debbils  gwinter  ketch  you" — she  hurried  back  to 
the  kitchen,  determined  to  hold  it  to  the  last  extremity. 
Mrs.  Mabry  ran  screaming  to  the  gate  calling  on  Tom 
to  stop,  and  crying  to  the  horsemen  not  to  shoot  her 
boy ;  but  Tom  never  stopped,  and  the  rushing  troopers 
paid  no  heed  to  her  wild  entreaties. 

Judge  Mabry  never  lost  his  presence  of  mind,  but 
begged  his  wife  to  compose  herself.  "Never  mind,  my 
dear, — they  cannot  catch  Tom,  and  their  pistols  won't 
hit  him  at  that  distance.  Look  how  he  skims  across 
"the  valley!  Ah,  he's  all  right  now,  and  they'll  never 
get  him.  Did  you  notice  how  the  young  rascal  took 
that  gate?  If  he  learns  to  fight  like  he  rides  he  will 
rival  his  brother." 

Returning  from  their  unsuccessful  chase  after  Tom^ 
the  party  spurred  into  the  front  gate,  trampling  over 
shrubbery  and  flower  beds  with  no  regret  for  the  wreck 
they  made.  We  are  not  inventing  a  case,  but  are  re- 
lating one  of  the  ten  thousand  mournful  incidents  of 
the  saddest,  wickedest  and  noblest  era  of  American  his- 
tory. This  was  only  a  raiding  party  bent  on  plunder, 
and  they  put  intention  into  execution  at  once.  Swarm- 
ing into  the  house  by  every  door,  they  were  soon  work- 


144  TOM    AND    JOE. 

ing  in  every  room — nor  was  there  a  secret  place, loft  or 
cuddy,  that  they  did  not  readily  find.  It  was  evident 
that  this  force  was  composed  of  master  builders,  or 
were  experienced  hands  in  the  business  of  seeking  hid- 
den valuables. 

''Plow  are  you,  old  Reb?  Ain't  you  glad  to  see  us?" 
This  was  from  a  burly,  red-whiskered  ruffian  carrying 
a  cavalry  s-aber  in  his  hand,  who  was  the  lieutenant  in 
command  of  the  party,  and  addressed  to  Judge  Mabry, 
who  met  them  on  the  piazza. 

The  Judge  replied  very  politely:  "I  cannot  truth- 
fully say  that  I  am  overjoyed  at  your  presence,  but  I 
trust  t'hat  since  you  are  here  you  will  compel  your  men 
to  behave  like  soldiers  and  gentlemen  You  have  the 
power  and  I  am  at  your  mercy." 

"Soldiers  and  gentlemen,  be  d d,  old  slave-driver! 

You  are  a  nice  looking  old  cock  to  be  talking  about 
soldiers  and  gentlemen  I  We  are  going  to  make  you 
help  pay  the  expenses  of  this  war;  we  cannot  afTord 
to  tramp  around  over  this  country  and  fight  rebels 
unless  we  are  well  paid  for  it." 

"  I  thought  you  were  fighting  from  patriotic 
motives.  That  is  what  most  of  you  claim,"  replied  the 
Judge. 

"You  thought  so,  did  you?  Well,  I  thought  you 
were  old  enough  to  know  better.  Yes,  patriotism  is  a 
good  thing  when  it  pays.  Hand  over  the  keys,  old 
gal" — addressing  Mrs.  Mabry — "but  we  really  don't 
need  'em,  I  can  kick  a  door  open  quicker  than  I  can 
unlock  it,  but  it's  a  pity  to  spoil  the  furniture." 


tom's  battery.  145 

"You  are  very  considerate  of  the  furniture,"  replied 
the  lady,  "and  I  only  wish  you  would  be  equally  so  in 
regard  to  the  contents." 

"  Don't  stop  to  parley,  boys ;  if  you  listen  to  an  angry 
woman  you  will  hear  something  that  won't  please  you. 
Pitch  right  in  and  teach  these  rebels  what  it  costs  to 
run  the  country  into  war."  Then  followed  a  scene  of 
indiscriminate  plunder  and  unmitigated  deviltry 
worthy  of  the  middle  ages.  Trunks,  drawers,  desks, 
and  every  article  of  furniture  were  thoroughly  ran- 
sacked and  contents  either  cast  upon  the  floor  to  be 
trampled  on,  or  pocketed  for  future  disposition. 

Like  most  families,  the  Mabrys  had  their  jewelry, 
watches  and  plate  safely  hidden  away,  and  many  a 
box  of  silverware  in  the  Southland  never  saw  the  light 
during  four  years  ;  so,  when  these  ruffians  were  disap- 
pointed in  their  search  they  became  enraged  and  vented 
their  wrath  upon  everything  in  reach.  They  muti- 
lated the  grandfather's  picture  by  cutting  out  the  nose, 
and  smashed  the  face  of  the  clock  with  a  tumbler. 
Some  elegantly  bound  volumes  w^ere  thrown  out  of  the 
window  to  be  walked  on  by  the  horses,  and  an  antique 
mirror,  set  in  the  wall,  was  broken  beyond  remedy. 
Before  long  they  found  a  quantity  of  honest,  home- 
made wdne  that  Mrs.  Mabry  took  great  pride  in,  and 
then  the  fun  grew  fast  and  furious.  One  young  fellow, 
who  had  forgotten  his  home-training  but  had  not  for- 
gotten his  music,  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  rattled  off 
a  lively  jig,  which  started  as  motley  a  set  of  dancers  as 
ever  congregated  in  a  Bowery  music  hall.  It  was 
7 


140  TOM    AND    JOE. 

every  fellow  for  himself  and  old  Nick  for  the  slowest. 
Such  a  knocking  the  backsteps  and  jingling  of  spurs 
were  never  heard  in  Louisiana  before  or  since.  Some 
of  the  marks  of  that  day's  entertainment  may  yet  be 
seen  upon  the  floor  at  Belhaven.  Fortunately,  they 
became  goodnatured  as  the  wine  took  effect,  and  except 
occasionally  kicking  an  unfortunate  chair  out  the  door 
they  broke  no  more  furniture. 

Aunt  Viney  w^as  cooking  dinner  when  they  came, 
and,  as  we  have  stated,  she  entrenched  herself  in  her 
citadel  and  prepared  to  defend  it  to  the  last  extremity; 
nor  had  she  long  to  wait,  until  a  couple  of  soldiers 
with  the  foragers'  usual  hankering  for  the  cookpot, 
undertook  to  capture  the  fortress.  Pounding  upon  the 
door  for  admittance,  they  heard  the  old  woman's  shrill, 
scolding  reply : 

"  You  golong  'way  frum  here  whiteman,  an  lemme 
'lone.  I  aint  gwinter  open  dis  kitchen  'til  I  giis 
ready — or  ceppen  my  own  vv^hitefokes  say  so." 

"  Come,  come,  don't  be  so  cruel,"  replied  one  of  the 
men.  "  Don't  you  know  that  we  are  your  friends  and 
are  going  to  set  you  free  ?  " 

"  G'way  frum  here,  I  say,  an  dont  you  talk  to  mu 
'bout  no  free  nigger.  Ef  you  dont  go  long  away  frum 
here  I'm  gwinter  hu't  sum  o'  yer" — came  back  in 
warning  notes  from  the  kitchen. 

"Open  the  door,  you  old  black  fool !  If  I  have  to 
break  it  down  I'll  pitch  you  headforemost  out  tho 
Vvundow." 


tom's  battery.  147 

"  Who  you  callin  black  fool,  you  poor  bucra?  Cum 
a  hunnyiii  arouii  here  an'  then  like  a  onmannered 
critter  callin  me  a  fool.  My  own  moster  and  mistis 
dont  do  dat,  an'  I  aint  a  gwinter  'low  no  po'  white  trash 
to  do  it,  shore !  Call  me  a  fool,  do  you  !  Call  me  a 
fool!     You  po'  ginger-faced  yallerhammer !" 

A  tremendous  kick  that  started  every  joint  in  the 
door  followed  this  outburst,  but  the  blow  was  not 
repeated. 

"  Take  dat  fer  your  smartness !  '^  And  the  irate  old 
woman  dipping  a  quart  of  boiling  water  from  the  pot 
dashed  it  against  an  auger  hole  in  the  door,  where  a 
great  portion  of  the  scalding  fluid  passed  through  the 
opening  and  fell  upon  the  two  hungry  men  on  the 
steps.  The  effect  was  awful.  With  yells  of  agony  and 
rage  they  stumbled  over  each  other  getting  down  the 
steps,  and  it  was  a  race  to  the  well,  where  one  plunged 
into  a  great  tub  of  w^ash-water,  and  the  other  inconti- 
nently rolled  into  the  horse-trough.  The  victor 
shouted  to  them  as  they  ran :  *'  I  tole  yer  you'd  better 
lemme  alone,  an'  you  better  too  !  If  you  cum  back 
here  I'm  gwdnter  dubble  de  dose." 

This  outcry  brought  Lieutenant  Stubbs  and  a  score 
of  his  men  rushing  from  the  house,  but  w^hen  they 
learned  the  nature  of  the  trouble  a  wdld  roar  of  laugh- 
ter burst  from  the  whole  party,  until  it  seemed  more 
like  a  drunken  Christmas  frolic  than  the  uproar  of  a 
set  of  marauders. 

Aunt  Yiney  came  to  the  window  and  holding  up  to 
view  a  smoking  kettle  said  to  the  laughing  men : 


148  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"You  may  lafif  an'  laff  til  you  can't  stan  up,  but  you 
better  not  cum  foolin  'long  wid  dis  chile.  I  got  eibun- 
dance  of  hot  water  in  dis  kitchen,  an'  I'm  gwinter 
make  de  nabors  think  we  all  scallin  hogs  over  here  ef 
enny  more  of  yer  try  to  cum  in  dat  do' — ceppen  ole 
moster  or  ole  mistis  say  so.  You  hear  my  hawn.  I'm 
gwinter  do  it,  sho,  an'  you  better  lissen." 

"Never  mind,  Aunty,''  said  the  laughing  officer. 
"You  shan't  be  bothered,  but  you  must  not  scald  any 
more  of  my  men.  If  you  do  I'll  pitch  you  mto  the 
well." 

"Who  you  talkin 'bout?  Me?  You  gwinter  pitch 
me  inter  de  well  ?  You  better  try  it.  You  ain't  got 
bolter  me  yit,  an'  you  dasent  try  it.  I  dare  you  like 
a  black  dog — I  jess  dubble-dog  dare  you!  Ef  I  don't 
scall  the  skin  offer  you  thar  ain't  no  snakes.  An'  don't 
you  cum  *antyin'  me  aroun  here  nuther,  fer  I  ain't  no 
kin  to  you  this  side  o'  Adum.  I  lay  ef  Marse  Joe  wus 
home  he'd  make  you  git  away  from  here  in  a  hurry. 
Well,  he  would." 

"Who  is  'Marse  Joe,'  and  what  makes  him  so  dan- 
gerous?" asked  the  amused  Stubbs. 

"Why,  ain't  you  got  no  sense?  Whar  you  ben  liv- 
vin  all  dis  time  you  ain't  hyeard  o'  Marse  Joe?  He's 
ole  Marster's  son — he's  oldest  son,  what's  off  in  de 
army  wid  Generl  Lee,  an'  he  ain't  erfraid  o'  no  Yan- 
kee on  the  topside  of  this  'uth.  Sho-o-o!  G'long  man. 
He  done  kill  eleben  hundred  Yankees  wid  he  own 
sord(,  an'  ef  he  cum  down  here  there  gwinter  be  sum 


tom's  battery.  149 

more  ded  Yankees  laj'in  aroun  waitin  fer  sumun  to 
bury  'em." 

Aunt  Viney  held  the  fort  until  Mrs.  Mabry,  hearing 
the  controversy  and  wishing  to  conciliate  the  enemy^ 
came  out  and  told  her  to  go  to  work  and  prepare  some 
dinner  for  the  troop.  The  faithful  old  ser.vant  went 
grumbling  to  obey  this  command,  for  she  was  still  full 
of  fight,  and  as  she  busied  about  her  cooking  she  said 
to  herself  repeatedly: 

"Well,  I  ain't  gwinter  put  no  salt  in  their  vittles — 
shore." 

While  dinner  w^as  preparing,  the  raiders  opened  the 
barn  and  threw  out  provender  for  their  horses  until 
the  whole  yard  looked  like  a  pen  for  fattening  beeves. 
Then  they  prowled  about  the  place  or  lolled  in  the 
house  singing  and  shouting  in  the  very  abandon  of 
wantonness. 

In  the  mean  time  what  has  become  of  our  j^oung 
man,  whose  time  to  the  swamp  has  never  been  equalled  ? 
When  he  reached  the  friendly  shelter  of  that  mighty 
forest  he  knew  that  all  the  Yankees  in  the  State  could 
not  catch  him,  so  turning  back  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods  to  reconnoiter  he  saw  the  enemy  riding  into  the 
yard  and  heard  their  shouts  as  they  trampled  into  the 
house.  He  had  in  a  measure  gotten  over  his  scare, 
which  was  mostly  the  result  of  surprise,  and  now  hot, 
indignant  wrath  took  possession  of  his  soul.  Shaking 
his  fist  towards  them,  he  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  you  thieving  devils!  To  think  that  I  had  to 
run  like  a  coward  the  first  time  I  ever  met  the  enemv. 


150  TOM    AND    JOE. 

Bat  I'll  get  even  with  you  before  the  day  is  gone  if  I 
have  to  follow  you  clear  to  Port  Hudson.  My  promise 
is  no  longer  binding.  The  war  has  come  to  me,  and 
now  I  propose  to  strike  one  good  blow  for  my  country 
if  I  never  get  another  chance.  If  I  can  only  find 
Captain  Ransome  in  time  we  will  make  you  shout  an- 
other tune — you  plundering  rascals!" 

Then  turning  his  good  pony,  Tom  cantered  away 
through  the  woods  to  a  cow-ford  across  the  creek,  when 
he  plunged  through  and  hurried  on  to  the  hills,  where 
he  hoped  to  find  his  friends  in  camp.  He  was  not 
long  in  reaching  the  spot  where  the  gallant  captain, 
with  his  scout  of  twenty  men,  was  resting  after  an  all- 
night  tramp  into  the  low  country.  Tom  galloped  right 
into  the  arms  of  a  vigilant  sentry,  who  pulled  him  up 
in  short  order,  with  the  remark: 

"  You  seem  pushed,  young  man.  Where  are  you  go- 
ing in  such  a  hurry?" 

"I  am  looking  for  Captain  Ransome.  The  Yankees 
are  just  back  here  at  Judge  Mabry's,  not  more  than 
three  miles,  and  you  may  have  heard  their  shots.  They 
fired  nearly  a  hundred  times  at  me  as  I  ran,  but  it 
takes  a  fast  bullet  to  catch  this  pony." 

*' Hadn't-  you  better  come  down  a  bullet  or  two,  my 
lad?  A  hundred  shots  ought  to  have  aroused  us  even 
at  this  distance." 

"Well,  I'm  certain  they  shot  at  me,"  replied  the  boy, 
"and  if  they  had  fired  a  thousand  times  I  couldn't 
have  run  faster.  I  did  my  very  best  and  have  hardly 
stopped  running  yet." 


151 

"  Ride  right  in,  my  son,  and  you  will  find  the  com- 
mand just  over  the  next  hill  by  that  little  spring 
branch.     Don't  rush  into  them  too  fast." 

Tom  hurried  on  and  was  soon  in  the  presence  of  a 
splendid  loking  young  officer,  who  listened  to  his  story 
with  great  interest,  nor  did  he  delay  action,  for  a  minute 
later  the  stirring  notes  of  the  bugle  called  to  arms. 

"What  is  the  number  of  the  party?"  inquired  the 
Captain,  but  Tom  could  only  guess. 

"I  cannot  say.  Captain,  for  certain,  but  from  the 
looks  of  the  party  as  they  swarmed  into  father's  front 
gate,  I  should  judge  them  to  be  twice  as  strong  as 
your  troop — may  be  fifty  men — but,  pshaw!  Captain, 
your  scjuad  ought  to  be  able  to  whip  three  times  their 
number  of  Yankees  any  day." 

"My  dear  boy,  your  w\ar  experience  is  very  limited. 
I  shall  not  shrink  from  a  conflict  with  double  our  num- 
ber of  the  enemy  if  I  can  get  any  advantage,  but  man 
for  man  the  Federal  troops  will  give  us  all  we  can  at- 
tend to.  We  will  have  to  be  cautious  in  this  case,  but 
no  matter  how  strong  they  are  we  must  give  them  a 
brush.  You  can  pilot  us  the  nearest  way  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  know^  every  acre  of  these  woods.  Many 
an  old  gobbler  I've  'yelped'  around  here  in  the  spring 
time,  and  I  know  I've  killed  a  thousand  squirrels  among 
these  hills.  I'll  show  you  the  w^ay,  that  is  what  I  came 
for,  and  if  you'll  let  me  I'll  take  a  hand  in  the  fight, 
too.  They  Shot  at  me  first  aw^hile  ago,  confound  theml 
and  I  want  one  good  fair  lick  at  them." 


152  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"  All  right,  my  bo}^  We  have  a  spare  pistol,  taken 
from  the  body  of  a  negro  trooper — a  black  Yankee — 
killed  in  a  little  affair  down  on  the  Port  Hudson  road, 
yesterday  morning.  We  struck  a  party  of  about  thirty 
of  the  black  rascals  gathering  in  the  stock  at  the  Bar- 
ziza  place,  and  were  right  on  to  them  before  they  knew 
it.  We  had  the  most  delicious  bit  of  fun  I've  experi- 
enced since  the  war  began." 

"I  reckon  you  hurt  some  of  them,  Captain" — sug- 
gested Tom. 

"  Well,  yes.  Some  of  them  likely  never  knew  what 
hurt  them,  for  my  men  carry  sharp  sabers,  and  I  doubt 
if  more  than  half  of  them  got  back  to  the  fort.  We 
certainly  gave  twelve  of  them  their  freedom — you  prob- 
ably know  that  we  never  take  negro  prisoners.  By 
the  way,  are  you  not  the  son  of  Judge  Mabry,  where 
we  took  supper  last  night?  We  are  under  obligations 
to  you  for  the  way  you  poured  out  the  corn  to  our 
horses;  the  poor  beasts  were  sadly  in  need  of  supper." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  Tom  Mabry,  and  while  I've  had  no 
chance  to  fight  Yankees,  I've  fed  many  a  good  Con- 
federate's horse  when  mother  was  feeding  the  rider." 

"The  good  lady  and  your  excellent  father  treated  us 
so  kindly  last  night  that  it  will  be  a  great  pleasure  for  us 
to  help  them  to-day,  when  they  have  fallen  into  trouble. 
Come,  I  see  the  command  is  ready,  and  we  must  be 
riding. 

Aw^ay  they  went  trampling  through  the  forest  until 
the  sound  of  hoofs  died  away  in  the  distance,  then  the 
wild   hogs   came  stealthily  out   from   a  neighboring 


TOM'S    BATTERY.  153 

thicket  and  took  possession  of  the  abandoned  camp, 
while  the  squirrels  and  jays  chattered  and  scolded 
from  the  overhanging  boughs. 

Tom,  as  guide,  rode  beside  the  leader,  who  listened 
with  kindly  interest  to  the  hopes  and  dreams  of  the 
impulsive  boy,  and  smiled  at  his  extravagant  ideas  of 
life  on  the  tented  field.  When  they  reached  the  brow 
of  the  last  hill  ere  they  should  plunge  into  the  deeper 
shades  of  the  valley  there  came  a  mighty  roar,  like 
the  explosion  of  mortars  at  the  great  bombardment. 
Involuntarily  the  entire  troop  halted. 

"Is  that  a  cannon  ?"  asked  Sergeant  Graham. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Captain,  "but  it  is  heaven's  artil- 
lery, and  we  have  no  call  to  attempt  its  capture.  AVe 
have  been  counting  it  on  our  side  all  this  time,  al- 
though I  have  good  reason  to  think  that  we  may  have 
been  mistaken." 

In  the  dense  shadow  of  the  forest,  where  the  foliage 
almost  shut  out  the  light  of  day,  they  had  not  observed 
the  sudden  advance  of  one  of  those  summer  tempests 
so  common  to  our  southern  latitude  until  they  were 
alarmed  by  its  opening  gun. 

"  We  must  hurry,"  said  the  Captain,  "  and  get  into 
the  low  grounds,  where  there  is  less  danger  from  the 
lightning.  These  lofty  trees  upon  the  hill-top  will 
bring  down  the  bolts  upon  us  " — even  as  he  spoke  a 
mighty  chain  of  fire  rushed  down  to  the  earth,  and  in 
its  progress  shivered  a  giant  poplar  to  the  roots,  hurl- 
ing fragments  of  many  hundred  weight  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  then,  while  their  eyes  were  blinded  by  the  flash, 


154  TOM   AND   JOE. 

there  came  upon  them  an  awful  roar  of  thunder,  so 
appalling  that  men  involuntarily  shrank  from  a  power 
tliey  could  not  combat,  and  the  frightened  horses  dashed 
madly  forward  in  vain  effort  to  escape  the  tempest. 

"Forward,  men!"  shouted  the  Captain.  "To  the 
shelter  of  the  valley  ! " 

The  command  hurried  on  rapidly,  but  ere  they 
passed  the  slope  the  great  fountain  of  the  skies  burst 
forth  and  the  water  came  down  with  the  rush  of  a 
cataract.  The  howling  of  the  wind  and  the  swish  of 
escaping  waters  were  enough  to  confuse  the  strongest 
men.  Again  and  again  the  clouds  parted,  riven  asun- 
der by  the  fiery  stream  that  poured  upon  the  trembling 
earth  with  a  roar  like  the  trumpet  of  judgment,  while 
the  wind  bore  upon  its  wings  all  the  screeching  demons 
of  the  air.  Great  sheets  of  water,  like  sea- waves  picked 
up  bodily  and  broken  into  fragments,  came  breaking 
and  crashing  through  the  groaning  tree-tops,  and  as 
our  party  scrambled  into  the  valley  they  found  a  flood 
gathering  to  stay  their  progress. 

"Make  haste!"  cried  Tom,  "or  the  creek  will  be  past 
fording  ere  we  can  reach  it." 

Being  measurably  protected  from  the  wind,  they 
spurred  forward  and  plunged  into  the  rapidly  rising 
stream — the  last  horse  swimming  as  they  reached  the 
further  shore.  Almost  as  suddenly  as  it  came,  the  tem- 
pest passed  on  bellowing  into  the  low  country,  and  as 
the  rain  ceased  the  whole  part}^  drew  up  upon  a  little 
knoll  to  rest  a  few  minutes  and  arrange  their  further 
j)rogress. 


Tom's  battery.  155 

"It  is  only  a  mile  to  the  house,  Captain,"  said  Tom, 
"and  if  you  will  follow  this  path  it  will  bring  you  into 
the  road  about  half  way.  That  is  the  same  road  you 
travelled  yesterday  evening  when  you  visited  there,  so 
you  will  know  the  way." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  our  young  guide  ?  "  asked 
Captain  Ransome.  "You  surely  don't  mean  to  desert 
us  just  as  we  are  about  to  strike  the  enemy?" 

Tom's  face  flushed  at  the  suggestion,  but  he  replied 
steadily : 

"You  mistake  me,  Captain.  I  am  ready  and  anx- 
ious to  fight  those  fellows  with  you,  but  I  want  a  gun 
that  will  do  some  damage.  This  pistol  is  probably  all 
right,  but  3"ou  never  know  who  you  are  going  to  hit 
with  it,  and  it's  an  accident  if  you  don't  bring  down 
your  next-door  neighbor.  The  trifling  rascals  fired  at 
me  to-day  several  shots  at  less  than  one  hundred  yards, 
and  did  nothing  but  scare  me  half  to  death.  About  a 
half-mile  below  here  on  the  bank  of  the  creek,  in  a  big 
hollow  beech  tree,  I  have  a  shot-gun  hidden  away.  I 
keep  it  wrapped  in  oil-cloth  to  protect  it  from  damp, 
and  it  is  one  of  the  best  weapons  of  any  make  for 
close  range.  I  hid  it  and  other  valuables,  away  out  of 
reach  of  both  Yankee  and  jayhawker,  so  if  they  catch 
me  they  won't  get  my  gun.  The  boys  all  call  my  gun 
*01d  Eternity,'  and  whenever  she  calls  something  has 
to  answer.  I  have  her  loaded  with  a  double  charge  of 
powder  and  twenty-seven  blue  whistlers  in  each  barrel, 
so  I  think  I'll  feel  better  with  my  old  friend  than  de- 
pending upon  this  popgun.     You  go  ahead,  Captain, 


loG  TOM    AND    JOE. 

and  I'll  catcli  up  with  you  before  j^ou  get  to  the  house. 
If  I  don't  my  father  will  disown  me." 

So  saying,  Tom  put  spurs  to  Tudor  and  was  soon  lost 
to  sight  in  the  dense  forest. 

Speed,  Tom,  speed!  The  hour  has  arrived  of  which 
you  have  been  dreaming  since  you  first  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  go  to  tlie  war  with  Joe!  Urge  the  good 
pony  to  his  best,  Tom,  and  be  careful  liow  you  ride  1 
Boy,  do  your  best,  for  upon  your  puny  arm  depends 
the  issues  of  life  and  death,  and  the  minute  has  nearly 
come  when  your  glad  young  voice  will  thrill  the  souls 
of  despairing  men  like  the  note  of  a  trumpet!  Be 
true,  old  gun,  for  never  did  your  deadly  barrels  look 
to  fiercer  game  than  awaits  you  this  afternoon! 

"Look  to  your  arms,  my  men!'^  came  the  quick 
command  '  See  that  they  are  dry  and  everything  in 
order.  If  those  raiders  are  not  careful  we  will  sur- 
prise them  in  the  midst  of  their  deviltry.  I  expect 
you  to  follow  me,  boys,  and  we  will  strike  one  good 
blow  for  our  country,  even  should  it  be  the  last." 

Away  then,  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  ground  would 
permit,  they  sped  in  search  of  the  enemy.  The  clouds 
w^ere  passing  off  and  the  glorious  sunshine  came  drift- 
ing down  through  the  treetops  forming  transient  jewels 
of  the  million  rain-drops  hanging  to  the  leaves.  Bird 
after  bird  fluttered  the  moisture  from  its  wings  and 
joined  the  forest  chorus,  while  the  glorious  afternoon 
was  filled  with  melody.  Since  the  storm  had  swept  by 
the  day  seemed  too  calm  and  })eaceful  for  brittle,  and 
riot,  and  sudden  death  ;  but  the  savage  that  is  in  man 


tom's  battery.  157 

breaks  out  as  fiercely  on  a  May  morning  as  in  a  De- 
cember night. 

Oar  scouts  hurried  on  to  battle,  and  as  they  marched 
Sergeant  Graham  asked:  "Do  you  think  we  shall  see 
that  5'oung  man  again?" 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,"  replied  the  Captain.  "  I  don't 
think  I  can  be  mistaken  in  his  determined  look  and 
manner;  yet,  if  we  are  to  have  hard  fighting  I  would 
rather  know  that  he  was  out  of  it.  A  little  touch  of 
a  skirmish,  and  let  him  get  a  couple  of  shots  with  that 
remarkable  rabbit  gun  of  his  would  please  him  and 
square  his  account  with  the  enemy.  I  shall  expect 
him." 

If  our  Captain  calculated  to  surprise  the  enemy  he 
was  mistaken,  for  Stubbs  was  an  old  stager  who  had 
seen  much  hard  service  in  Kentucky  and  Missouri, 
and  he  had  long  ago  learned,  by  sad  experience  from 
the  hands  of  a  party  of  Forrest's  men,  that  the  soldier 
who  relaxes  vigilance  in  an  enemy's  country  is  a  can- 
didate for  misfortune.  The  raiders  were  already  in 
motion,  coming  leisurely  down  the  road  in  front  of 
Belhaven,  both  horses  and  men  being  fulj^  of  good 
cheer  and  plunder.  Stubbs,  feeling  superlatively  jolly, 
had  broken  out  into  a  song,  and  with  a  tremendous 
bass  voice  was  making  the  woods  echo  with  the  doubt- 
ful melody  of — 

"  Katrina  and  the  big  bologna  sausage," 
but  just  as  he  approached  the  end  of  the  avenue  and 
the  poor  lovesick  Fraulien — "  Avay  to  der  kitchen  she 
riin"— there  came  the  sharp  crack  of  a  dozen  carbines, 


158  TOM    ANL>    JOE. 

emptying  severiil  saddles,  and  throwing  the  entire 
party  into  the  utmost  confusion.  Back  rushed  the 
front  of  the  column,  and  after  them,  with  wild  hurrahs, 
came  the  little  band  of  scouts,  under  the  lead  of  the 
gallant  Ransome,  firing  their  pistols  as  they  came. 
Several  more  saddles  were  emptied,  and  it  looked  like 
sudden  destruction  had  come  upon  the  hilarious  crowd ; 
but  Stubbs  was  no  coward,  and  the  most  of  his  men 
had  tried  their  courage  on  many  a  well-fought  field. 

"  Halt,  my  men,  halt ! "  he  shouted.  "  Are  you  going 
to  run  from  a  scouting  party  of  a  half-dozen  rebels 
like  a  pack  of  cowards?  Turn  about  and  show  them 
that  soldiers  will  fight !  Follow  me !  Down  with  the 
rebels  and  rally  round  the  flag  ! "  Then,  throwing 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  dozen  of  his  men  w^ho  had 
recovered  from  their  surprise,  and  shouting  to  his  ser- 
geant to  rally  the  remainder,  he  formed  across  the 
avenue  and  met  the  charge  of  the  scouts  with  a  rattling 
pistol  fusilade  that  did  some  damage,  but  could  not 
stop  their  headlong  career. 

"  Give  them  the  saber,  boys,  and  crowd  them  before 
they  can  rally ! " — shouted  Ransome,  and  bursting  upon 
them  like  a  tempest,  horses  and  riders  rolled  in  the  mud. 
One  brave  fellow  fired  point  blank  at  our  Captain's 
face,  the  bullet  fanning  his  cheek  as  it  passed,  but  ere 
he  could  amend  his  shot  a  keen  saber  went  crashing 
through; his  skull,  and  he  sank  utterly  dead  into  the 
ditch  that  bordered  the  avenue.  Stubbs  fought  with 
the  strength  and  courage  of  a  desperate  man  and  more 
than  one  scout  gave  back  before  the  terrible  blows  of 


tom's  battery.  159 

his  vengeful  swor J.  He  had  beaten  down  tlic  guard  of 
Sergeant  Graham,  breaking  the  saber  of  the  latter 
smooth  oiF  at  the  handle ;  the  flashing  steel  was  about 
to  claim  its  victim,  but  even  as  in  fierce  joy  it  descended, 
it  glanced  in  a  shower  of  sparks  from  the  blade  of  a 
master,  and  he  met  the  eyes  of  Ransome,  aflame  with 
the  light  of  battle. 

"  Dog  of  a  robber ! "  shouted  Ransome. 

"Death to  the  rebel !"  answered  the  undaunted  Stubbs, 
as  he  whirled  his  saber  with  tremendous  fury.  But  lie 
had  met  a  saber  that  never  yet  acknowledged  a  supe- 
rior, and  it  required  all  his  skill  and  immense  strength 
to  parry  the  blows  that  rained  upon  him.  The  fight- 
ing became  desperate  and  brutal  at  this  point,  but  now 
the  rallied  troopers  of  Stubbs's  came  thundering  up 
from  the  rear  and  by  weight  of  numbers  pressed  the 
scouts  back,  still  fighting  furiously.  The  two  leaders 
were  separated  in  the  melee  and  each  shouted  encourag- 
ing words  to  his  followers,  while  their  sabers  found 
abundant  work  in  the  general  engagement. 

Ransome  soon  found  that  he  was  being  overpowered 
by  the  great  number  of  the  enemy,  and  as  several  of 
his  force  were  already  down,  he  saw  witn  troubled  heart 
that  he  must  retreat  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods  or  be 
destroyed.  Slowly  and  sullenly  he  drew  back,  followed 
by  the  shouting  enemy,  until  he  reached  the  end  of  the 
avenue,  where  he  determined  to  make  one  more  despe- 
rate stand. 

Even  as  he  turned  to  meet  the  exulting  foe  in  one  last 
despairing  struggle  he  heard  a  boyish  voice  call  to  him: 


IGO  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"  Be  ready,  Captain.  '  Old  Eternity '  is  going  to  linrt 
somebody." 

Then  from  the  end  of  the  avenue  liedge  came  a  roar 
like  the  report  of  a  mountain  howitzer,  and  a  perfect 
tempest  of  bucksliot  swept  the  road  for  two  hundred 
yards.     A  wild  yell  from  the  scouts  hailed  this  new  ally* 

"  Give  it  to  them  again,  Tom ! "  shouted  Ransome. 

When  again  with  tremendous  boom  the  old  gun 
hurled  its  contents,  and  before  it  botli  horse  and  rider 
went  down — while  behind  it,  from  tlie  force  of  recoih 
our  Tom  measured  his  length  in  the  mud. 

The  blood-thirsty  Stubbs  fell  at  the  first  fire,  and 
but  few  escaped  a  wound  amid  that  rain  of  bullets. 

*•  Look  out,  boys !  An  ambush ! "  cried  one  of  the 
raiders. 

*' They've  got  a  cannon  !  "  shouted  another. 

And  dismayed  at  the  unexpected  enemy  and  the  fall 
of  their  leader,  the  panic  soon  turned  into  a  rout. 

"  Give  them  the  saber,  boys,  but  spare  those  who 
surrender,"  was  the  command,  and  away  they  went  up 
the  hill  past  the  house  they  had  so  lately  plundered. 
Throwing  away  their  burdens  as  they  ran,  and  trust- 
ing to  the  fleetness  of  their  steeds,  the  routed  raiders 
fled  before  the  sword,  while  fast  upon  their  heels  came 
the  vengeful  scouts. 

And  who  should  be  in  the  lead,  upon  a  swift  pony, 
but  our  Tom  ?  Back  over  the  same  road  the  pursued 
of  a  few  hours  before  was  now  the  pursuer,  and  his 
being  the  only  loaded  pistol  he  was  popping  aw^ay  at 
the  fugitives  every  jump. 


tom's  battery.  161 

Up  at  the  house  the  family  were  intensely  excited 
when  they  heard  the  conflict  in  the  avenue,  but  when 
the  fleeing  enemy  came  hurrying  by  in  wild  confusion 
their  joy  knew  no  bounds.  Aunt  Viney  was  still  mad, 
and  when  the  fight  commenced  she  seized  her  kettle  of 
hot  water  and  made  for  the  front  gate,  where  she  took 
her  stand,  determined  to  make  it  hot  for  any  one  who 
tried  to  enter.  When  the  rout  commenced  she  couldn't 
stand  still. 

"Hoo-e!  Jes-s-s  look  at  dem  Yankees!  Fo  de  Lawd, 
Mos  Joe  muster  struck  'em!  Look  at  'em,  Mistis, how 
da're  gitten  over  dubble  trubble !  'Pears  like  da  muster 
struck  a  whole  biler  fuller  hot  water  down  dare  an' 
da's  huntin'  a  mill  pond.  Da  cum  a  gallupin'  up  here 
fo'  dinner  terplochety,  iilochety,  plochtyy  an'  now  da  gwine 
back  kerbooJcety,  hoohety,  bookety,  da  lebble  tipt  end  best. 

"  Lawd  1  Lawd !  If  yonder  aint  sum  of  weall's  fokes  a 
cummin'  after  um  like  a  black  runner  after  a  lizzard  I 
Look  at  dem  swodes,  will  yer  ?  In  de  name  of  de  chil- 
lun  of  Iserl,  who  dat  shootin'  so  big?  Jess  lissen  at 
him,  peepul!  Kerboiuf  Kerboiuf  law,  law!  Cum  here 
an'  hole  me,  peepul  1  Ef  dat  aint  Mos  Tom  on  young 
Tudor!  Look  at  dat  chile,  willyer?  Kerbow !  Kerbowf 
Um-m-m-m.     Peepul,  lissen  at  him  shoot!" 

Then  the  faithful  and  excited  old  creature  began  to 

sing: 

"  Run  nigger,  run,  patterroller  ketch  you  ! 
Run  nigger,  run,  it's  almost  day  ;" 

and  actually  danced  about  the  yard  until  she  brought 
3n  a  case  of  what  Tom  called  "  colored  hysterics." 


1G2  TOM    AND    JOE. 

The  horses  of  Hansomc's  party  were  too  tired  from 
the  fatigues  of  the  day,  and  the  long  scout  from  which 
they  had  just  returned,  to  allow  them  to  follow  up  their 
victory.  Besides  most  of  the  men  had  received  cuts, 
bruises,  or  pistol  shots  in  the  encounter,  and  all  were 
worn  out  with  riding  or  fighting ;  so  after  pressing  the 
flying  foe  well  on  to  the  river  road,  they  returned  to 
Judge  Mabry's  to  look  after  the  wounded  and  bury  the 
dead. 

Stubbs  and  one  of  his  followers  were  found  lying 
within  twenty  steps  of  tlie  place  where  Tom  opened  on 
the  party  with  his  artillery,  and  the  unfortunate  musi- 
cian was  stretched  out  at  the  foot  of  a  water-oak  with  a 
bullet  through  his  brain.  Five  dead  horses  and  eleven 
men  were  lost  to  the  enemy  in  this  desperate  little  bat- 
tle; also  seven  troopers  badly  wounded.  There  is  no 
telling  how  many  suffered,  as  Tom's  showers  of  buck- 
shot swept  the  avenue  in  succession.  It  was  like 
shooting  into  a  flock  of  blackbirds.  Captain  Ransome 
lost  three  killed  and  several  more  were  suffering 'from 
severe  wounds.  Five  prisoners  were  captured  and  quite 
a  lot  of  plunder  recovered,  including  three  of  Judge 
Mabry's  mules, and  his  stove-pipe  hat,  which  one  laugh- 
ing young  devil  had  worn  off  cocked  rakishly  on  the 
side  of  his  head,  but  which  he  was  glad  to  abandon  in 
his  flight.  The  victors  went  into  camp  under  the  great 
beeches  in  front  of  the  yard,  and  Aunt  Viney  was  again 
called  on  to  cook  for  soldiers.  In  her  enthusiasm  she 
salted  the  supper  twice  and  forgot  to  replenish  her  war- 
like kettle.     Every  few  minutes  during  the  operation 


tom's  battery.  163 

of  cooking,  the  old  woman  would  have  to  stop  and  call 
some  one  to  hold  her  while  she  gave  vent  to  her  joy 
and  astonishment  at  Tom's  remarkable  performance. 

"  Who  would  ebber  'spected  dat  chile  do  so  big,  an' 
he  aint  hardly  done  waring  long  shuts,  nuther.  Law, 
law,  peepul!  Dat  chile  muster  loaded  his  gun  wid 
bilin'  water — an'  den  see  how  he  cum  tarin'  up  de  road 
like  de  dogs  was  after  him,  a  hollerin'  an'  a  shootin'  at 
dem  Yankees  like  who  but  him ! 

"  Man,  ser,  ef  dat  boy  hader  had  a  swode  dare  would- 
enter  been  not  one  o'  dem  Yankees  left.  He'd  a  fally 
skarified  'em,  he  would.  Shoo — gVay  from  here  all 
)^ou  niggers,  fer  I'm  g winter  make  dat  chile  de  bigges 
taterpone  ever  was  made  on  dis  plantation,  an'  I  aint 
gwinter  stint  the  sweetnin'  nuther.      You  hear  my 

hawn! 

"  Lawd  It  nussy !  Lawd  a  mussy,  on  dem  poor  ded 
white  mens  down  in  the  abenue.  Dare  po'  mammys  at 
home  gwinter  weep  an'  moan  an'  'fuse  to  be  cumferted. 
Lawd  a  mussy  !   Lawd  a  mussy!" 

That  night  after  supper  Judge  Mabry  and  Captain 
Eansome  had  a  long  conversation  regarding  the  war 
and  the  enlistment  of  Tom.  The  Captain  begged  that 
he  might  have  the  stout  boy  in  his  command,  and 
promised  that  he  would  look  to  his  welfare  as  he  would 
for  a  younger  brother.  "  Besides,  my  dear  Judge,  after 
the  affair  to-day  your  boy  will  not  be  safe  at  home.  If 
those  men  should  get  hold  of  him  they  will  shoot  him 
without  mercy,  for  he  has  no  protection  under  the 
rules  of  war — not  being  an  enlisted  soldier." 


1G4  TOM    AND    JOK. 

"I  must  consult  his  mother,"  replied  tlie  Judge — 
"although  I  know  you  are  correct,  and  I  will  give  you 
an  answer  in  the  morning." 

Tom  heard  this  conversation  and  his  heart  leaped 
within  him  at  the  prospect  of  satisfying  the  taste  he 
had  that  afternoon  acquired  for  war — yet  how  often  are 
we  doomed  to  disappointment.  The  cup  comes  close 
to  our  parching  lips  sometimes,  but  is  dashed  to  earth 
ere  we  can  satisfy  our  longings. 

When  the  next  morning's  sun  arose  in  splendor  upon 
the  Southland,  the  smoke  had  cleared  away  from  its 
battlefields,  and  the  long  agony  was  over.  Who  is  it 
that  rides  past  the  dead  men  in  the  avenue,  and  hur- 
ries with  jaded  steed  up  to  the  gate  at  Belhaven?  You 
may  weep  tears  of  vexation  and  sorrow,  Tom,  for  the  cou- 
rier who  comes  announces  the  surrender  of  Lee's  ex- 
hausted army,and  a  cessation  of  hostilities.  You  may 
weep,  Tom,  for  tender  women  and  strong  men  are  weep- 
ing all  over  the  land. 

Yours  is  a  sad  case,  Tom,  for  w^ith  your  record  of  ro- 
mantic daring  and  unselfish  devotion  to  the  »^outh, 
you  will  never  be  enrolled 

A   CONFEDERATE  SOLDIER. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


♦'  FERGIVE  ME,  JEDOE—F  VE  COME  BA  CK  ALONE r 

n^HERE  are  days  in  our  lives  that  we  look  back  to  with 
Y  a  strange  fascination  although  the  memory  of  them 
comes  up  to  us  through  a  mist  of  tears,  and  the  burden 
of  an  old  time  sorrow  grows  heavy  again. 

We  often  forget  our  joys,  and  the  recollection  of 
many  of  our  happiest  hours  grows  dim  as  a  dream  of 
the  night,  but  never  can  we  put  away  from  us  the  dead 
body  of  some  old  day  which  shall  haunt  us  until  the 
grave  hides  us  and  our  griefs. 

Such  a  day  was  the  25th  of  March,  1865,  and  al- 
though the  passing  j'^ears  have  brought  to  our  Tom 
sorrow  after  sorrow,  mingled  with  joys  innumerable, 
again  and  again  comes  up  the  memory  of  that  fateful  day. 
So  with  Jennie,  when  in  the  stillness  of  some  summer 
night  she  sees  the  flash  and  hears  the  far-off  roar  of  the 
tempest,  there  comes  to  her  the  shadow  of  a  grim  fortress 
with  deep-voiced  cannon,  where  in  the  early  morn  was 
heard  the  last  triumphant  shout  of  a  vanished  nation. 
For  one  heroic  hour  the  brother  and  lover  was  seen 
breasting  the  storm  of  battle,  then  the  pall  of  smoke 
came  down  and  loving  eyes  could  see  no  more. 

Promptly  at  midnight  the  remnant  of  a  famous  regi- 
ment marched  quietly  back  from  its  post  on  the  picket 

(165) 


166  TOM   AND    JOE. 

line  and  directed  it's  course  to  division  headquarters. 
Here  it  paused  while  arrangements  were  being  made 
for  the  final  movement  and  Joe  hastened  into  the  pres- 
ence of  his  commander. 

That  officer  was  seated  in  his  tent  examining  some 
drawings  when  Joe  entered.  He  looked  up  quickly, 
and  exclaimed :  "  Come  right  in,  Major  Mabry  I  You 
are  always  on  time  when  there  is  work  to  do.  I  am 
pleased  to  find  you  so  prompt." 

"  Thank  you,  General,"  replied  Joe,  saluting.  *'When 
we  know  our  duty  it  behooves  us  to  be  in  line  promptly. 
General,  please  allow  me  to  express  to  you  my  grati- 
tude for  this  latest  display  of  your  kind  confidence. 
Such  an  honor  rarely  falls  to  the  lot  of  a  young  man, 
and  I  shall  endeavor  to  deserve  it.  I  am  twenty-one 
to-day.  General,  and  I  could  not  celebrate  my  majority 
better  than  by  doing  some  good  deed  for  my  country." 

"  Noble  w^ords,  young  man,  and  may  God  keep  3'ou 
for  your  country's  sake!  I  know  that  I  can  depend  upon 
you  and  your  men  to  stand  firm  under  the  critical  pres- 
sure of  the  first  fire.  So  many  troops  who  are  brave 
enough  after  the  battle  is  once  well  joined,  shrink  with 
a  panicky  feeling  from  the  expectancy  of  waiting,  and 
it  often  ends  disastrously,  when  it  should  be  otherwise. 
I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  you  go  into  the  very 
face  of  death,  for  the  fort  is  very  strong  and  will  be 
bravely  defended." 

"I  know  that,  General,  for  I  have  examined  the 
works  and  can  observe  no  weak  point,  but  the  danger 
cannot  be  greater  than  the  honor.     I  am  ready." 


'^FERGIVE   ME,   JEDGe/'   &C.  167 

"  You  but  increase  our  estimation  of  you,"  said  the 
General.  "  Colonel  Grace,  your  late  commander,  who 
has  been  absent  on  sick  leave,  has  not  recovered.  His 
old  wound  received  at  the  Wilderness  is  troubling  him 
again,  and  his  furlough  has  been  extended  indefinitely. 
To-morrow,  you,  my  brave  boy,  shall  wear  the  star  of 
a  Colonel,  and  I  wish  it  were  possible  to  fill  your 
depleted  ranks." 

"  General,"  exclaimed  the  blushing  young  soldier, 
*'  you  are  too  kind,  and  the  authorities  are  giving  me 
more  than  I  deserve.  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
meet  your  expectations,  but  I  will  try.  Let  me  go 
now,  if  you  please,  and  talk  a  little  while  wdth  the 
brave,  patient  fellows  who  are  to  go  with  me — ^you 
kno^v  they  must  help  me  win  my  star." 

**  Go,  vrith  your  General's  best  wishes.  You  have 
your  instructions.  I  will  see  you  again  at  sunrise  in 
Fort  Steadman." 

Out  into  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  into  the 
heavy  mists  that  were  sweeping  up  from  the  ocean,  our 
Joe  took  his  way  to  where  his  little  band  of  heroes 
were  resting  and  waiting  for  the  hour  of  conflict. 
Calling  them  about  him  he  told  them  of  the  danger 
into  which  he  should  lead  them,  and  what  their  coun- 
try required  at  their  hands. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  tell  you,  my  brave  men, 
that  I  know  you  are  ready  to  go  with  me,  for  you  are 
always  ready  when  your  country  demands  a  sacrifice 
at  your  hands.  I  have  seen  this  heroic  old  regiment 
gradually  melt  away  under  the  fierce  heat  of  battle 


168  TOM   AND   JOE. 

until  now  you  are  but  a  remnant — yet  such  a  remnant 
as  the  soul  of  a  warrior  burns  to  lead.  I  came  to  you 
when  torn  and  bleeding  you  stood  like  a  rock  in  the 
Wilderness.  I  was  with  you  on  that  dreadful  day  at 
Spotsylvania,  when  a  continent  reeled  under  the  shock 
of  battle.  At  Cold  Harbor  I  saw  your  front  a  blaze  of 
awful  carnage  as  the  enemy  went  down  before  your 
guns.  I  saw  you  spring  to  your  feet  undismayed  on 
that  July  morning  when  a  volcano  burst  under  our 
lines,  and  I  heard  your  fierce  shouts  as  you  swept  the 
foe  into  the  Crater  with  your  bayonets.  I  have  seen 
your  brave  comrades  perish  in  a  hundred  struggles, 
and  together  we  have  suffered  the  pangs  of  cold  or 
hunger  all  through  the  fearful  winter.  We  are  now 
about  to  make  one  last  supreme  effort.  Death  is  in  front 
of  us,  but  we  have  gotten  used  to  him.  His  terrors  are 
only  for  the  coward  or  the  guilty.  Brave  men  know 
how  to  die,  and  where  to  die.  I  will  not  ask  if  you  are 
ready  to  go  where  I  shall  lead.     I  know  you  are  ready." 

A  low  murmur  of  voices,  wdiispered  almost,  yet 
heard  beyond  the  stars,  answered  : 

"  We  are  ready ! " 

"  Very  well,"  resumed  Joe.  "  At  4  o'clock  we  will 
pass  beyond  our  lines  and  rush  upon  the  enemy's 
works.  Until  that  hour  make  yourselves  as  comforta- 
ble as  2:)0ssible,  and  be  strong  for  the  battle." 

Joe  then  called  Goodnight  aside,  and  together  they 
talked  long  and  earnestly. 

"  My  faithful  old  friend,"  said  Joe,  *'  before  we  go 
into  this  fight  I  want  to  ask  you  to  take  upon  yourself 


"fergive  me,  jebge,"  &c.  169 

the  burden  of  certain  commissions.  You  know  we  are 
going  into  a  place  of  great  danger,  and  death  will  find 
many  of  us.  We  may  neither  of  us  return,  but  should 
you  escape  and  I  not  come  back,  I  want  you  to  take 
my  sword  home  to  Tom  and  tell  him  to  keep  it  as 
stainless  as  when  he  receives  it.  Tell  him  that  Joe 
never  forgot  his  cheerful  little  brother,  and  that  he  has 
ever  loved  him  with  a  brother's  love.  See  my  folks  in 
dear  old  Belhaven,  and  tell  them  that  although  I  may 
have  passed  out  of  their  lives  I  would  have  them  ever 
cherish  the  memory  of  their  soldier  boy.  And  dear 
old  father !  I  wish  I  could  hear  him  read  from  the 
Gospels  once  more,  and  then  listen  for  the  rustle  of 
angels'  wings  as  he  prayed.  Let  mother  know  that 
the  little  Testament  she  gave  me  always  goes  with  me  to 
battle,  as  a  messenger  of  peace  amid  a  world  of  storms, 
and  tell  my  sweet  sister  that  her  lover  is  safe  to  her  now, 
but  in  her  joy  she  must  not  forget  the  dead  brother. 

"  And  now.  Goodnight,  one  more  commission  and  I 
am  done.  You  know  there  is  one  whose  love  I  have 
sought  since  I  was  a  boy  in  the  dear  old  home.  She 
has  always  been  very  shy  with  me,  and  sometimes  she 
has  wounded  my  heart;  but  that  was  before  she  knew 
me.  If  I  should  die  to-day  I  think  she  would  sorrow 
for  me.  Ah,  if  I  but  knew  that.  I  have  no  word  for 
her,  but  you  may  tell  her  to  accept  my  last  exploit  as 
a  message.     She  will  understand  it.'* 

"  Looker  here,  Joe,"  interrupted  his  faithful  friend. 
*'  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  a  talkin'  about  dyin'.  Why, 
boy,  ain't  you  been  in  a  hundred  battles,  an'  ain't  you 


170  TOM   AND   JOE. 

walked  where  bullets  were  fallia  like  rain,  jest  like  you 
was  kivered  all  over  ia  steel  an'  didn't  keer  what  it 
rained  ?  Don't  talk  to  me  'bout  bein'  killed— you  rile 
me.  I'll  bet  you  six  months'  pay  agin  a  ginger- 
cake  that  you'll  come  through  all  right  an'  that 
you'll  marry  that  purty  little  black-eyed  gal  in  less'n 
a  year.  It  makes  me  weak  about  the  gills  to  liev 
you  a  talkin'  thet  way,  an'  I  don't  like  it.  How  am 
I  g winter  fight  less'n  I  keep  up  a  good  heart?  Of 
course,  Joe,  I'll  tell  your  folks  all  about  you  in  case 
there's  any  necessity  for  me  to  do  it,  but  whose  gwin- 
ter  tell  Susan  that  I  died  fer  my  country  when  I'd  a 
much  ruther  went  back  to  her?  S'pose  some  fool  Yan- 
kee weighs  my  shugar  fer  me." 

"My  dear  old  fellow,"  replied  Joe,  "it  is  not  in  your 
line  of  duty  to  go  on  this  expedition,  and  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  allow  you  to  be  present  during  the  attack." 

Goodnight  sprang  up  from  where  he  had  been  sit- 
ting and  exclaimed: 

"Oh !  you  don't,  don't  you  !  Well,  beggin'  your  par- 
don, fer  I'm  talkin'  to  Joe  now — not  to  Major  Mabry — 
how  you  gwinter  keep  me  from  goin'?  Jess  so  shore 
as  you  lead  this  ole  piece  of  a  regiment  against  that  fort 
at  4  o'clock,  or  any  other  hour,  jess  so  shore  is  Good- 
night gwinter  take  a  hand  in  the  rumpus  I  I  think  it 
dangnation  mean  of  you,  Joe,  to  wanter  leave  me  be- 
hind, an'  ef  any  man  on  this  green  earth  had  o' 
tole  me  you  would  treat  me  so,  I'd  a  upt  sir  an' 
called  him  a  liar — I  don't  keer  if  he  wus  as  big  as  the 
sons  of  Enock.     Joe,  you  don't  mean  it,  an'  it  aint  pos- 


''fehgive  me,  jedge",  &c.  171 

siblo  nohow.  I've  been  with  you  in  a  hundred  scrapes 
an'  w^aded  through  some  of  the  biggest  battles  in  Ten- 
nessee or  Virginy  right  along  by  your  side,  yet  now 
when  it  comes  to  runnin'  over  a  little  bobtail  fort  what 
I  could  take  a  good  runnin' start  an' jump  plum  across, 
you  want  me  to  stay  back,  because  you're  'fraid  I'll 
git  popt  over  with  a  bullet — I  jest  aint  gwinter  do  it. 
You  know  very  well  that  I  promised  the  Jedge,  an' 
your  good  mammy,  to  take  keer  of  you,  an'  I  mean  to 
do  it  to  the  best  of  my  sarcumstances.  I  reckon  I'm 
your  Gyardeen,  appinted  by  your  daddy  an'  mammy, 
an'  ef  a  Gyardeen  don't  outrank  a  Major,  then  I'd  like 
to  know  what  a  Gyardeen  do  outrank." 

*'My  old  friend,"  said  Joe.  "You  know  that  I  have 
loved  3^ou  since  I  was  a  boy,  when  we  used  to  hunt 
wild  ducks  together  in  the  Comite  swamp,  and  I  tell 
you  now  that  my  manhood  strength  has  not  outgrown 
that  love.  Didn't  you  carry  my  heavy  knapsack  for 
me  on  that  awful  march  from  Shiloh  back  to  Corinth  ? 
Haven't  you  stood  guard  in  my  stead  time  and  again 
when  I  was  so  sleepy  that  exhausted  nature  could  not 
])e  aroused  ?  Whose  bullet  was  it  that  stopped  an  enemy 
tr3dng  to  shoot  me  at  Murfreesboro'  but  yours,  and 
whose  strong  arm  was  it  that  rescued  me  and  carried 
me  off  from  the  fatal  Mission  Eidge  ?  Ah,  Goodnight! 
you  have  proven  youself  my  friend  a  hundred  times, 
and  now  I  want  to  show  my  friendship  for  you  by  de- 
tailing you  for  other  service  this  morning." 

"  It  aint  no  use,  Joe;  I'll  jest  disobey  orders  and  risk 
the  consequences.    These  here  are  dreadful  times,  Joe, 


172  TOM    AND   JOE. 

with  nothin'  to  cat  an'  old  Death  so  busy  that  he  is  a 
piiitin'  every  one  of  his  fingers  at  somebody;  so  I'm 
bound,  accordin'  to  promise,  to  stick  to  you.  I  do  hope, 
my  boy,  ef  tliere's  a  bullet  moulded  for  you  the  good 
Lord  will  turn  it  to'ards  me,  fer  I  aint  got  nobody  to 
be  sorry  when  I'm  gone,  an'  I  aint  useful  like  you. 
But  man,  man,  we're  gwinter  hunt  the  game  agin  in 
that  old  swamp  when  them  blamed  Yankees  quit 
huntin'  us.  We'll  have  sech  a  huntin'  frolic  when  we 
git  back,  that  your  grandchildren  will  hear  'bout  it." 

Suddenly  the  order  came  to  advance,  and  silently 
those  brave  men  passed  outside  the  fortifications,  lead- 
ing the  way — into  the  jaws  of  death.  The  attempt  to 
surprise  the  Federals  was  only  partially  successful,  for 
ere  they  had  traversed  two-thirds  of  the  distance  there 
came  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle,  followed  in  an  instant 
by  a  tremendous  boom  of  cannon,  and  a  storm  of 
grape-shot  swept  over  the  head  of  the  advancing  column. 

"  Forward ! "  cried  Joe ;  and  with  a  shout  that 
drowned  the  rattle  of  musketry  four  thousand  Confed- 
erates swept  up  to  the  fort  and  over  its  walls  like  a 
great  inundation.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  suddenly 
awakened  Federals  endeavored  with  the  utmost  gal- 
lantry to  defend  the  works.  Officers  threw  themselves 
sword  in  hand  upon  the  line  of  bayonets  and  perished 
in  the  struggle.  Artillerymen  died  at  their  posts  while 
loading  their  guns,  and  many  a  brave  fellow  from 
beyond  the  Potomac  rose  up  in  the  early  light  to  sink 
back  into  a  darkness  upon  which  no  sun  would  ever 
rise. 


"FERGIVE    ME,    JEDGE,"    &C.  173 

Side  by  side  Joe  and  Lieutenant  Featherstone 
mounted  the  parapet,  and  there  witli  the  shout  of 
battle  upon  his  lips  the  heroic  young  Georgian  fell 
with  a  bullet  through  his  noble  heart.  Joe  saw  his  com- 
rade fall,  and  at  the  same  moment  he  observed  an  artil- 
leryman endeavoring  to  fire  upon  the  crowded  assail- 
ants one  of  those  big  guns  which  had  brought  on  this 
attack.  Quick  as  thought  he  sprang  to  prevent  the 
shot ;  there  was  a  flash  of  bright  steel  in  the  morning 
air,  and  the  unfortunate  gunner  went  down  beneath 
the  stroke.  Wild  with  triumph,  Joe  placed  his  left 
hand  upon  the  coveted  gun,  and  waving  his  sword 
shouted : 

"Forward,  my  brave  boys!  The  fort  is  ours." 
Then  suddenly  staggering  back  he  leaned  upon  the 
gun  and  would  have  fallen,  but  a  strong  arm  caught 
him,  and  a  kind  voice  murmured:  "Oh,  Joe!  I  do 
hope  you  aint  hurt !" 

This  was  just  at  daylight,  and  the  tide  of  battle 
swept  on  heedless  of  the  wrecks  in  its  path. 

An  hour  later  the  gallant  Gordon  led  back  the  rem- 
nant of  his  column,  torn  and  bleeding,  and  as  he 
passed  the  now  silent  gun  he  saw  sitting  beneath  it  a 
desolate  man  holding  in  his  arms  the  dead  body  of  a 
young  officer. 

"Alas!  It  is  my  brave  young  major."  And  tears 
came  into  the  eyes  of  the  great  soldier  as  he  stooped 
above  the  heroic  boy.  Then  he  thought  of  his  mid- 
night promise,  and  tearing  from  his  own  collar  a  glit- 
tering star  pinned  it  upon  the  young  soldier's  breast, 


174  TOM    AND    JOE. 

and  the  ragged  old  veterans  saluted  the  dead  colonel 
as  they  passed. 

There  amid  the  very  wreck  of  battle  Joe  won  hie 
last  title. 

"  Oh,  Joe!  Joe!  They  can  come  now  with  their  stars 
an'  proud  words,  but  you  don't  know  it,  an'  you  won't 
answer  your  ole  friend  enny  more.  Why  don't  you 
open  your  eyes  an'  speak  to  me,  Joe?  You  don't  hear 
me,  Joe?  It's  your  own  ole  Goodnight  what's  talking 
to  you.  Oh !  Lord  God  Almighty !  I  can't  think  about 
Joe  bein'  dead.  Why  didn't  you  take  me  an'  leave  this 
blessed  boy?"  Thus  wailed  the  tender-hearted  scout, 
and  as  the  Federal  troops  resumed  their  place  about 
the  recovered  guns  their  leader  saluted  the  heroic  dead 
and  spoke  kindly  to  the  grief-burdened  prisoner. 

"  Let  me  bury  my  dead,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  "  an 
then  you  may  do  with  me  what  you  please." 

After  a  j^romise  to  make  no  effort  to  escape,  the  good 
soul  secured  some  rough  boards  from  an  abandoned 
barn,  and  with  the  aid  of  such  tools  as  he  could  bor- 
row in  the  fort  he  soon  constructed  two  boxes,  and  then 
with  patient  labor  dug  two  graves  at  the  foot  of  an 
ancient  pine,  which  then  stood  a  little  distance  in  the 
rear  of  the  fortifications.  When  the  great  sun  was 
sinking  to  rest  beyond  the  distant  Appomattox  he  laid 
the  brave  young  Colonel  and  his  no  less  gallant  friend 
down  to  that  sleep  that  shall  know  no  waking  until 
thunders  mightier  than  those  then  shaking  the  walls  of 
Fort  Stead  man  shall  bid  the  dead  hosts  arise  to  meet 
the  Prince  of  Peace. 


"fergive  me,  jedge,"  &g.  176 

Alas!  tliat  our  Joe  should  have  given  his  young  life 
in  vain.  For  when  his  patient  old  friend  smoothed 
the  lonely  mound  above  his  head  those  great  guns 
were  tolling  the  brave  boy's  requiem,  and  his  match- 
less leader  was  preparing  to  leave  the  fated  city. 

The  bravest  note  in  our  song  of  war  is  lost,  and 
henceforward  there  will  be  something  missing  from  its 
music  which  no  tale  of  love,  or  joy,  or  sorrow  can  re- 
place; for  Joe,  the  matchless  young  patriot,  is  dead 
and  the  faithful  Goodnight  is  fretting  like  a  caged 
eagle  behin-d  the  bars  of  a  distant  prison. 

Who  can  tell  the  sad  longing  and  tearful  waiting  in 
the  far-off  liome  when  one  by  one  the  stragglers  re- 
turned, yet  never  came  the  form  of  the  boy  so  loved  ? 
Many  were  the  fruitless  inquiries  made  by  Judge 
Mabry  and  Tom  for  news  of  the  missing  one,  and  the 
gray  hairs  of  the  old  father  grew  whiter  under  tlio 
torture  of  suspense. 

Week  sped  after  week,  and  the  war  was  ended.  Then 
the  prisoners  from  the  forts  and  islands  of  the  distant 
North  began  to  return,  but  still  no  word  of  Joe,  until 
one  day  towards  the  end  of  June,  when  at  its  close  the 
family  of  Belhaven  w^re  assembled  at  the  evening 
meal,  there  crept  in  at  the  front  gate  a  weary,  ragged, 
and  wretched  man,  who  staggered  to  the  door,  and  as 
he  fainted  away  through  hunger  and  exhaustion,  cried; 

"  Fergiv  me,  Jedge.     I've  come  back  alone !  '* 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MADGE, 

JT^HE  old  church  where  the  committee  that  wrestled 
[  with  Goodnight  had  been  so  informally  appointed 
was  a  notable  landmark  in  the  hill  country.  Here, 
on  two  Sabbath  mornings  of  eaoh  month,  winter  and 
summer,  from  generation  to  generation,  the  good  peo- 
ple for  many  miles  around  used  to  assemble,  and  if 
that  old  house  was  not  one  of  the  gates  of  heaven,  it 
was  at  least  a  resting  place  just  outside  the  gates. 
Some  of  the  good  old  men  and  women  were  seen  there 
for  the  last  time,  and  afterwards  when  inquiry  was 
made  for  them,  answer  was  :  **  They  have  passed  into 
heaven."     That  good  place  must  have  been  very  near. 

Of  course  some  persons  went  without  any  very  defi- 
nite idea  of  worship,  and  with  others  the  intention  to 
worship  was  perhaps  secondary,  but  one  thing  we  are 
sure  of — there  never  was  a  more  orderly  congregation, 
nor  more  profoundly  attentive,  since  the  mailed  hand 
of  Miles  Standish  enforced  Sunday  discipline  around 
Plymouth  Rock.  No  whispering,  nor  the  smallest  ghost 
of  a  laugh,  and  if  our  Tom  used  to  peep  over  his  hymn- 
book  in  the  direction  of  Major  Carter's  pew,  he  was  like 
the  ancient  Joey  B.,  *'  devlish  sly." 

Those  Sunday  mornings  were  "seasons  of  refresh- 
ing" to  the  entire  community.     All  the  boys  and  the 

(176) 


MADGE.  177 

young  men,  also  most  of  the  dignified  gentlemen  of 
middleage,  road  horseback,  and  came  upon  the  ground 
early.  The  gentlemen  of  the  South  rode  fine  horses  in 
those  days,  and  they  rode  with  skill  and  grace.  When 
the  men  and  boys  were  assembled — generally  an  hour 
before  preaching — ^they  collected  in  groups  upon  rustic 
seats  beneath  those  noble  old  beech  trees  and  discussed 
the  events  of  the  week.  From  time  to  time  as  the  later 
arrivals  came  up  there  were  the  cheeriest  and  friend- 
liest greetings  that  ever  fell  from  kindly  lips  upon 
grateful  ears,  and  if  there  were  any  heartburnings,  bick- 
erings, or  jealousies,  our  Tom  cannot  now  call  them  to 
mind.  He  was  rather  young  and  inexperienced  then 
to  observe  such  things.  He  was  a  greathearted  fellow 
who  loved  the  whole  world,  especially  one  little  blue- 
eyed  maiden,  and  never  dreamed  that  the  world  could 
be  in  any  other  condition  of  mind  or  heart. 

There  were  no  politicians  in  this  Arcadian  commu- 
nity, but  the  people  were  all  intelligent,  well  read,  and 
thoroughly  alive  to  the  rush  of  events.  Of  course, 
those  ante-service  meetings  under  the  greet  trees  were 
not  entirely  free  from  political  discussion,  but  the 
venom  was  all  left  out.  Judge  Mabry  was  an  old- 
school  Whig,  while  Colonel  DuPree  was  a  loud-talking 
Democrat;  yet  they  were  able  to  parry  and  thrust 
without  even  a  bruise.  If  the  discussion  became  too 
warm  for  the  day  and  the  place  Uncle  Billy  Farmer 
would  hurry  into  the  church,  and  as  he  seated  himself 
in  the  amen  corner  his  trembline:  voice  would  sound 


178  TOM    AND    JOK 

the  opening  notes  of  that  grand  old  country  church 

song: 

**  How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours." 

Dear  old  Uncle  Billy !  Your  kindly  voice  is  hushed 
to  mortal  ears,  but  we  will  all  hear  it  again  where 
"Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of 
thousands"  fill  eternity  with  music. 

No  subject  was  ever  so  earnestly  and  exhaustively 
discussed  under  those  noble  old  beeches  as  the  crops, 
and  especially  was  cotton  a  never-ending  theme. 
During  "thirteen  months  of  the  year"  it  required 
work,  and  needed  to  be  talked  about.  It  was  fresh 
when  remarks  about  the  weather  became  stale.  "  Are 
you  done  planting?  Did  you  get  a  good  stand? 
When  will  you  finish  scraping  ?  Have  you  run  round 
your  cotton  yet  ?  What  about  the  boll  worm  ?  What 
make  of  cultivator  do  you  use  ?  Will  you  use  a  sweep 
or  a  twister  in  that  sedge  cut  ?  Is  your  cotton  shed- 
ding much  ?  What  about  caterpillars  ?  You  will 
begin  to  pick  next  week,  won't  you  ?  Will  you  com- 
mence ginning  before  November?  How  many  bales 
have  you  sold,  and  what  did  you  get?"  On  and  on, 
never  tiring,  rolled  the  volume  of  questions  to  the 
exclusion  of  many  a  subject  of  nearly  equal  import- 
ance. Some  men  could  think  of  nothing  else.  The 
boys  used  to  tell  as  a  joke  on  old  man  Pennyworth,  a 
rich  old  five-hundred  bale  nabob,  that  his  regular 
Sunday  morning  greeting  to  Colonel  DuPree  was: 
"  Good  morning.  Colonel !     How  is  your  cotton  ?" 


MADGE.  170 

It  would  be  amusing  reading  to  tell  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  boys  about  the  age  of  our  Tom  when  waiting 
under  the  trees  they  would  catch  the  distant  roll  of  a 
carriage.  How  their  young  hearts  fluttered  with  eager 
excitement  as  carriage  after  carriage  turned  the  bend 
of  the  road  and  thundered  up  to  the  front  of  the 
church.  How  grandly  that  pair  of  grays  tossed  their 
heads  and  lifted  their  feet  as  if  disdaining  the  earth 
they  walked  upon,  and  conscious  of  the  precious  burden 
they  drew. 

With  what  a  lordly  air  old  Cato  used  to  leap  down 
from  his  lofty  perch  in  front,  and  with  an  old-timo 
bow  open  the  carriage  door  for  the  ladies  to  descend ; 
then  with  what  an  easy,  jaunty  air  one  of  the  boys 
would  step  out  from  the  crowd  to  assist  the  ladies,  and 
how,  despite  his  enforced  sang  froid,  his  heart  was  all 
in  a  flutter  and  his  walk  decidedly  uncertain.  It  is 
astonishing  what  a  small  root,  pebble,  or  unevenness 
of  surface  is  sufficient  to  trip  a  healthy  sixteen-year- 
old  boy  under  such  circumstances,  and  then  what  an 
amount  of  blood  rushes  to  his  face,  while  his  ears  burn 
and  his  tongue  trips  in  sympathy  with  his  feet.  Don't 
laugh  at  him,  please,  but  consider  how  honestly  he  is 
trying  to  be  polite. 

But  here  comes  a  noble  pair  of  bays,  with  harness 
always  black  and  shiny,  with  carriage  ever  seeming 
fresh  from  the  shop,  and  driven  by  an  ancient  darkey 
whose  good-natured  face  betokened  the  kindly  soul 
within.  Ah,  yes  I  The  shiny  old  carriage  and  sleek 
bay  horses,  with  the  antique  driver,  still  linger  in  Tom's 


ISO  TOM    AND    JOE. 

memory,  and  he  would  recklessly  exchange  four  hun- 
dred years  of  the  future  if  he  could  go  back  over 
twenty-five  of  the  past;  if  he  could  see  again — the  old 
darkey  with  his  carriage  and  bay  horses?  No,  no. 
These  were  but  followers  in  the  train  of  the  princess 
whose  blue  eyes  and  sunny  hair  are  ever  present  amid 
a  thousand  bright  and  tender  memories. 

Tom  fell  in  love  early,  and  w^e  might  add — often. 
Somehow  or  other,  nor  can  we  explain  the  philosophy 
of  it,  boys  who  are  fond  of  fishing  are  equally  fond  of 
the  girls.  Probably  they  are  fond  of  most  good  things. 
Perhaps  the  fact  of  lingering  along  the  banks  of  a 
creek  in  the  pleasant  spring-time,  and  having  to  be 
quiet  a  few  consecutive  hours,  have  a  tendency  to  de- 
velop the  love-germ  that  lies  hidden  in  every  heart. 
You  get  a  good,  healthy  boy  quieted  down  for  a  few 
days,  and  the  little  god  will  mark  him  for  his  own. 
Our  Tom  was  a  tender-hearted  fellow,  and  no  pretty 
girl  could  escape  being  loved  by  him.  We  have  known 
him  to  love  several  girls  at  once,  and  this  we  ascribe 
to  his  abundant  heartfulness  rather  than  to  mere  wan- 
tonness— an  effort  to  dispose  of  his  vast  wealth  of  affec- 
tion. But  the  day  came  when  he  was  about  the  age  of 
sixteen  that  brought  with  it  a  little  princess  who  was 
easily  able  to  monopolize  Tom's  entire  capital,  both 
principal  and  interest,  together  wiui  all  that  he  could 
borrow  from  a  score  of  passionate  poets.  She  came  to 
school  one  bright  winter  morning,  and  bankrupted 
him  in  five  minutes. 


MADGE.  181 

Tom  had  known  her  from  infancy,  but  had  not  been 
thrown  much  with  her  for  some  years,  so  now  he  was 
all  unprepared  for  the  vision  of  loveliness  that  made 
the  winter  day  seem  a  morsel  of  spring-time.  Life 
suddenly  passed  above  and  beyond  the  dull  reality  of 
"intransitive  verbs"  and  "promiscuous  examples," 
quickly  becoming  a  thing  of  dreams  and  beautiful 
longings.  If  the  boy's  lessons  were  learned  that  day 
it  was  because  he  w^as  ashamed  to  miss  them  in  the 
liearing  of  Madge,  and  when  at  recess  he  renewed  ac- 
quaintance by  presenting  her  a  mammoth  russet,  which 
he  had  kept  hidden  away  since  the  October  harvest, 
his  tongue  faltered  and  his  ears  burned  as  they  had 
not  since  the  last  application  of  the  maternal  band. 
His  strength  utterly  collapsed  when  his  sister  Janet 
cried: 

"Just  look  at  Tom!  Oh,  fie!  See  him  blush  be- 
cause he  gave  Madge  an  apple." 

Tom  suddenly  thought  he  heard  a  call  from  one  of 
his  chums  out  on  the  ball  ground,  and  answering : 
"  Yes,  I'm  coming,"  hastened  away,  while  Madge  and 
Janet  made  merry  over  the  apple.  Never  was  there  a 
happier  boy  than  Tom  during  that  session  of  school. 
It  was  generally  understood  among  the  boys  and  girls 
that  Tom  and  Madge  w^ere  sweethearts.  She  loved 
to  play  with  the  big  boy  who  was  so  tender  with  her, 
and  so  mindful  all  the  while  of  her  pleasure ;  while 
he — well,  Tom  was  foolishly  in  love  with  the  pretty 
little  maiden,  and  woe  to  the  unlucky  schoolfellow  who 
made  faces  at  her  or  flipped  paper  balls  at  her  across 


182  TOM    AND   JOE. 

the  school-room  when  the  teacher's  back  was  turned, 
lie  was  just  as  certain  to  feel  the  weight  of  somebody's 
hand  as  Madge  was  to  scold  Tom  for  fighting. 

The  springtime  of  18G5  will  ever  linger  in  our  mem- 
ory, and  in  every  history  the  reader  will  find  a  leaf 
turned  down  to  mark  the  culmination  of  tragedy. 
Tom  was  happy  in  the  ever-smiling  presence  of  his 
little  Princess,  and  grew  anxious  waiting  for  tidings  of 
Joe,  who  had  disappeared  in  the  wreck  about  Peters- 
burg. He  was  but  a  boy,  and  had  a  boy's  light  heart, 
although  the  entire  land  was  groaning  under  the  accu- 
mulation of  woes.  His  lessons  were  so  much  pastime, 
and  his  hours  of  freedom  were  a  murmuring  brook  of' 
pleasure.  He  would  gather  the  prettiest  flowers  for 
Madge,  and  for  her  the  beech-limb  swing  was  entwined 
in  the  shadiest  nook.  To  him  she  was  the  fairest, 
daintiest  creature  that  ever  bloomed  with  the  flowers, 
and  we  shall  ever  think  that  a  girl  should  be  counted 
fortunate  who  possesses  the  first  worshipful  love  of  an 
honest  boy  heart. 

A  boy  loves  spontaneously  and  unselfishly.  There 
are  no  considerations  of  fitness  or  advantage,  but  the 
love  just  wells  up  in  his  heart,  regardless  of  surround- 
ing, as  the  pure  waters  of  a  spring  gush  from  the 
earth — sometimes  to  catch  the  sunlight  in  marble 
basins,  or  maybe  to  trickle  awa}^  and  be  lost  amid  ooze 
and  brambles.  It  is  a  fair  pearl  that  is  often  neglected 
amid  the  sparkle  of  diamonds,  and  is  cast  out  to  be 
trodden  under  foot,  but  the  boy  love  remains  to  make 
the  man  purer  and  better  through  all  the  coming  years. 


MADGE.  183 

People  often  laugh  at  the  boy,  and  call  his  pretty 
attachment  "puppy  love,"  when,  in  fact,  he  is  absorbed 
in  the  master  passion  of  his  life,  and  will  never  again 
thrill  with  that  divine  essence  which  makes  the  world 
an  eden. 

When  the  weather  grew  warm  the  school  children 
discarded  the  more  active  games,  such  as  "cat,"  "town- 
ball,"  and  "  bullpen,"  for  the  boys,  "  kingbase,"  and 
hopscotch,"  for  the  girls,  contenting  themselves  with 
those  old  time  amusements  called  '^  marbles,"  and 
"  mumble-the-peg" — the  children  said  "  mumbly-peg." 

Boys  did  not  go  around  with  pockets  full  of  little 
black  allies  making  life  a  burden  with  their  eternal 
rattling,  but  with  round  honest  taws  played  square 
honest  games,  with  no  suspicion  of  "keeps"  or  any  other 
specimen  of  juvenile  gambling.  The  nearest  approach  to 
gambling  that  we  have  any  recollection  of  in  those  days 
was  a  game  called"  hull-gull,"  or  "jack  in  the  bush," 
which  was  usually  played  with  chinquapins,  and  was 
not  really  bad,  for  both  of  our  boys  used  to  play  it.  In  the 
game  of  marbles  a  big  fat  fellow  graced  the  position  of 
middle  man — a  much  more  innocent  creature  than  the 
middleman  of  whom  our  farmers  complain  to-day — 
and  to  plump  him  from  taw,  a  line  about  twenty  feet 
away,  was  worthy  to  be  called  a  game.  Perhaps  no  game 
in  all  the  list  of  boyhood  amusements  appeals  so  to  our 
hearts  as  we  advance  in  years.  Doubtless  many  a  digni- 
fied Senator  or  Governor  of  to-day  would  swap  all  of  his 
honors  to  feel  once  more  the  long  ago  thrill  of  a  school- 
boy game  of  marbles.  Above  and  beyond  the  tenderest 


184  TOM    AND    JOE. 

love  passages,  or  the  consummation  of  political  hopes, 
rises  the  memory  of  that  old  game,  and  no  man  is  ever 
so  dead  to  his  boyhood  that  his  heart  fails  to  quiver 
when  he  hears  the  well  remembered  "ventyer  roun- 
dance !" 

If  our  Tom  dearly  loved  to  fish,  and  if  he  fairly 
adored  Madge,  he  thoroughly  revelled  in  a  game  of 
marbles.  To  him  it  was  the  acme  of  human  amuse- 
ment, and  if  he  had  no  white  companion  to  play  with, 
Black  Dave  or  Bowlegged  Bob  were  just  as  skillful  as 
their  white  playmates  and  even  more  anxious  to  play ; 
so  he  rarely  suffered  for  a  game.  The  girls  used  to 
take  part  in  those  games,  and  they  were  adepts — some 
of  them.  Tom  was  a  champion  in  the  marble  ring 
and  wore  his  honors  proudly,  but  in  manipulating  the 
knife  through  all  the  twists  and  turns  of  mumble-the- 
peg  Madge  knew  no  superior.  The  boy  who  played 
with  her  had,  in  schoolboy  vernacular,  to  "eat  dirt." 
A  peg  driven  into  the  ground  by  three  well-directed 
blows  from  a  knife-handle  in  the  hands  of  a  vigorous 
girl  is  not  readily  drawn  with  the  teeth,  and  Madge 
could  drive  the  peg  about  as  well  as  she  could  manage 
the  game. 

One  delightful  day  at  dinner  recess — and  no  other 
day  was  ever  half  so  fair — she  challenged  Tom  to  a 
game,  which  he  without  a  moment's  hesitation  ac- 
cepted and  rushed  heedlocsl}^  on  to  his  fate.  Any  other 
boy  on  the  face  of  tlie  green  earth  would  have  done 
likewise.  At  her  bidding  ho  would  have  attempted 
things  more  impossible  than  winning  from  her  a  game 


MADGE.  185 

of  mumble-the-peg.  Can  Tom  ever  forget  lliu  wide- 
spreading  beech  through  whose  dense  screen  no  sun- 
ray  ever  pierced,  and  the  little  mossy  knoll  where  that 
fateful  game  was  played?  Not  if  he  should  live  a 
thousand  years.  He  played  that  game  faithfully  and 
honestly,  but  he  was  beaten.  He  never  can  forget  how 
with  his  own  pocket-knife  the  fair  little  hands  shaped 
the  peg,  how  the  blue  eyes  fairly  sparkled  with  fun, 
how  she  rested  her  tuneful  little  tongue  in  one  corner 
of  the  rosebud  mouth,  and  how  with  mischievous 
energy  she  drove  the  peg  home  at  two  blows.  He 
begged  and  was  granted  the  unusual  privilege  of  cut- 
ting a  hole  beside  the  peg  for  his  nose — for  Tom's  nose 
was  not  the  least  interesting  feature  of  his  face.  Then 
stooping  to  pay  the  forfeit  he  found — not  the  peg,  but 
two  girlish  hands  hiding  it  from  his  reach. 

"Indeed,  Madge,  I  shall!"  exclaimed  Tom,  trying 
gently  to  push  away  the  hands. 

"Indeed,  Tom,  you  shall  not!"  was  the  laughing 
reply.  "I  just  wanted  to  punish  you  for  being  so 
proud  of  your  marble  games." 

Tom  seized  the  hands,  and  in  the  struggle  the  pretty 
face  was  close  to  his.  The  laughing  eyes  looked  exult- 
ingly  into  his  soul  and  thrilled  him  beyond  resistance. 
What  would  you  have  done,  kind  male  reader,  had 
you  been  in  our  hero's  place?  A  thousand  to  one 
that  you  would  have  acted  just  as  Tom  did  if  you 
have  a  heart  in  you  as  large  as  a  marble.  You  couldn't 
have  helped  it. 


186  TOM   AND   JOE. 

With  all  his  boyish  love  lighting  up  his  face  he 
kissed  the  sweet,  laughing  mouth,  and  then  blushed, 
boy  like,  at  his  own  presumption.  Madge  had  been 
kissed  a  thousand  times  before,  for  she  was  a  most  win- 
some little  creature,  but  not  that  style  of  kiss.  It  was 
the  kiss  that  is  never  repeated — the  first  love-kiss.  It 
was  lovers  first  and  sweetest  expression.     It  was  heaven. 

Madge  flushed  like  the  sunrise  as  she  drew  away  her 
hands,  and  exclaimed: 

'' Oh,  Tom !  how  could  you?" 

"Madge,  darling,  how  could  I  help  it?"  answered 
Tom. 

And  then  she  ran  awa}'  to  the  school-room,  leaving 
him  with  a  buzzing  sound  in  his  ears  and  the  notes  of 
singing-birds  in  his  heart,  while  he  looked  too  foolish 
and  happy  for  expression. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


'■'THERE  NEVER    WVS  SECH  A    GAL  AS  SUSAN.'' 

TIFTER  the  burial  of  the  two  young  soldiers  the 
^  poor  heart-broken  scout  was  sent  away  to  Fortress 
Monroe,  where  he  remained  until  the  final  liberation  of 
prisoners  early  in  June,  when  he  was  turned  loose  at 
the  gate  of  the  fort  without  a  cent  in  his  pocket  and 
but  a  few  days'  rations  to  support  life  upon  the  long 
journey  he  at  once  began.  Wearily  he  toiled  along 
the  road  from  day  to  day  during  the  sultry  summer 
time  until  he  reached  the  pleasant  mountain  regions  of 
his  own  dear  old  "North  Caliney."  Here  he  looked 
upon  the  mighty  hills  and  clear  rushing  streams  until 
his  soul  was  filled  with  a  great  joy  that  for  a  time  almost 
obliterated  the  sorrow  of  the  past  few  months.  Like 
a  dreadful  and  beautiful  dream  seemed  the  years  when 
the  continent  rocked  under  the  trampling  hosts,  and 
often  at  night  by  some  lonely  camp  fire  the  old  warrior 
would  start  up  suddenly  to  answer  the  call  for  battle, 
then  be  would  look  around  for  Joe.  Poor  fellow!  It 
looked  like  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts  had  forgotten  you, 
old  scout,  but  you  were  not  alone  in  your  desolation. 
The  agony  of  that  time  is  yet  painful,  and  many  a  gal- 
lant heart  will  yet  go  sore  to  its  grave. 

But  our  giant  was  getting  home  again.  Was  going 
back  to  the  graves  of  father  and  mother;  back  to  the 
pleasant  scenes  of  his  boyhood — and  to  Susan. 

(187) 


188  TOM    AND    JOE. 

There  was  no  poorer  and  more  utterly  disconsolate 
creature  on  earth  than  the  paroled  Confederate  soldier 
who  trudged  the  long  journey  afoot  from  Virginia  to  a 
desolate  home  in  the  farther  South ;  yet,  like  Goodnight, 
he  took  heart  as  he  neared  the  old  familiar  haunts, 
and  the  world  has  never  seen  a  more  glorious  super- 
structure than  sprang  from  the  bitter  ashes  of  1865. 
The  indomitable  courage  of  a  hundred  battle-fields 
blazed  afresh  upon  ten  thousand  cotton-fields,  and  the 
skill  that  reared  those  immortal  lines  of  defence  has 
plucked  from  the  deeper  earth  its  mineral  treasures,  or 
set  in  motion  countless  scores  of  spindles.  Victory  has 
grown  up  out  of  defeat,  and  to-day  that  poor  half- 
starved  "rebel"  of  twenty  years  ago  stands  in  the  halls 
of  Congress  a  leader  among  leaders.  So  much  for 
heroic  endurance  South — so  much  for  manly  forbear- 
ance North. 

Our  friend  Goodnight  felt  his  heart  grow  light  within 
him  and  his  step  more  elastic  as  he  approached  the  old 
neighborhood,  and  so  kindly  did  he  feel  towards  all 
the  world  that  when  he  met  "poor  little  fool  Si  Owens" 
in  the  road  he  could  have  hugged  him  then  and  there. 
Not  being  recognized  by  that  old-time  mouse,  who  had 
"laffed  and  laff'ed"  when  he  gnawed  tlie  lion's  meshes, 
he  did  not  make  himself  known,  but  passed  on  up  the 
familiar  way  until  he  came  to  the  Warner  place,  and 
with  trembling  heart  walked  into  the  house — right  into 
the  presence  of  Susan. 

"Oh,  Caleb!"  exclaimed  that  impulsive  young  lady 
— "you  have  come  back  to  me  after  so  many  yearsi" 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."       180 

"Yes,  Susan,  I've  come  back,  an'  God  help  me,  we 
won't  misonderstand  each  other  no  more." 

Into  those  strong  arms  all  covered  as  they  were  with 
rags,  went  Susan,  and  never  woman  rested  her  head 
upon  manlier  bosom  or  heard  the  responsive  breathing 
of  a  more  faithful  heart.  A  few  short  hours  of  love 
and  rest,  then  our  scout  rose  up  renewed  in  strength 
and  made  ready  to  resume  his  journey. 

"  Oh,  Caleb  !  ]\Iust  you  leave  me  and  so  soon  ?  "wailed 
Susan,  now  loath  to  loose  her  new-found  lover. 

"Yes,  dear.  There  are  them  what's  waitin'  to  hear 
from  that  brave  boy  who  died  in  these  arms,  an'  I  must 
keep  my  promise  to  him.  Unly  a  few  weeks,  dear,  an' 
I'll  come  back  as  quick  as  the  kyars  can  bring  me.  I 
have  no  money  an'  I  must  walk  like  I  did  when  I  went 
to  Luzyanner  first,  but  I  know  they'll  help  me  to  git 
back.  The  good  Lord  never  made  better  people  than 
them  what  I  lived  amongst." 

He  then  told  her  of  his  good  friends  away  off  in 
the  South,  and  of  his  noble  young  fellow  soldier  whose 
dying  words  he  was  to  carry  to  waiting  hearts. 

The  girl  listened  with  tearful  attention  while  Good- 
night told  her  of  those  who  had  befriended  him,  and 
of  his  love  for  the  heroic  boy.  Then  drying  her  tears 
she  said : 

"  Caleb,  of  course  you  must  go  without  delay,  but 
you  must  not  go  unprovided.  You  must  have  some 
money  to  help  you  on  the  road,  and  here  is  what  I 
have.  It  is  all  that  is  left  of  the  small  sum  given  us 
by  father  when  he  died  two  years  ago,"  and  the  loving 


190  TOM   AND   JOS. 

girl  lianded  him  a  little  netted  purse  in  which  jingled 
a  few  of  the  old-time  dollars  of  ante  helium  days. 

"  I  can't  take  it,  Susan,  fer  you  will  need  every  dollar 
of  it,  an'  I  can  work  my  w\ay.  No  man  ever  yet 
starved  in  this  country,  an'  I  can  walk  my  thirty  miles 
a  day.  Maybe  once  in  a  w^hile  some  of  ihe  railroads 
wdll  give  a  old  soljer  a  ride." 

But  Susan,  not  to  be  outdone,  insisted  that  he  must 
take  a  few  dollars  to  use  in  case  of  extremity,  and 
yielding,  as  the  lover  always  does,  he  put  into  his 
pocket  six  half-dollars,  and  vow^ed  he  never  w^as  so  rich 
in  all  his  life. 

Away  then  upon  his  long  journey  sped  the  faithful 
fellow,  and  be  it  said  to  the  eternal  honor  of  an  im- 
poverished people,  that  he  never  asked  in  vain  for  as- 
sistance. Many  a  friendly  "lift"  in  carriage,  wagon, 
or  cart  did  he  get  for  maybe  ten  or  twenty  miles,  and 
once  in  a  while  some  kind  railway  official  "passed" 
him  a  portion  of  his  journey.  His  poor,  tattered  at- 
tempt at  a  gray  uniform,  and  his  honest  face,  W'On  his 
way  w^here  even  money  could  not  carry  him,  and  more 
than  one  aristocratic  mansion  opened  wide  its  doors  to 
shelter  the  weary  soldier.  Often  at  night,  when  sitting 
upon  some  country  piazza  surrounded  by  kindly  hearts, 
he  told  the  story  of  his  mission  and  the  tragic  fate  of 
our  young  hero,  tears  of  sympathy  flowed,  while  many 
a  sorrowing  mother  thought  of  her  own  lost  boy.  Thus 
on  for  three  weeks,  until  near  his  journey's  end,  he  put 
forth  all  of  his  enormous  strength,  and  after  clearing 


"there  never  WUS  aECII  A  GAL  AS  SUSAN."       191 

forty  miles  fainted  upon  the  thresHold  of  Judge  Mabry's 
residence. 

No  need  to  tell  of  the  kindly  hands,  both  white  and 
black,  that  bore  him  away  to  bed,  nor  of  the  tender 
hearts  that  yearned  in  sympathy  over  the  poor  broken- 
down  soldier.  Enough  that  he  wore  the  color  so  dear 
to  every  heart,  and  ten  thousand  times  enough  that  he 
was  Joe's  comrade  in  time  of  battle  and  had  held  the 
dying  boy  in  his  arms.  It  required  no  words  to  con- 
vince the  family  that  Joe  was  no  more,  for  well  they 
knew  that  only  death  could  part  the  noble  scout  from 
the  boy  he  loved  so  well.  The  great  dread  that  for 
three  long  months  had  hung  like  a  cloud  over  fair  Bel- 
haven  was  now  the  sad  reality  of  woe,  and  words  are 
idle  to  attempt  the  story  of  that  time  of  sorrow.  The 
patient  old  Judge  would  sit  for  hours  by  his  favorite 
post  on  the  front  gallery,  looking  away  down  the  ave- 
nue where  his  son  had  ridden  out  of  sight  just  four 
years  before,  and  as  the  blessed  tears  came  to  soothe 
his  suffering  heart  he  felt  in  his  soul  the  peace  that  is 
beyond  our  human  comprehension.  Tom  wandered 
about  over  the  plantation  seeking  for  something  that 
was  lost,  and  ever  as  he  wandered  there  would  come 
up  to  him  a  refrain  from  that  sad  little  song: 
**  Oh,  call  my  brother  back  to  me !" 

Then  there  came  over  him  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  go  again  to  the  well-remembered  haunts  where  he 
and  Joe  spent  that  last  memorable  day.  He  strolled 
away  to  the  creek  where  they  fished  so  happily  on 
the  day  that  heard  the  first  gun  at  Sumter,  and  he 


192  TOxM    AND    JOE. 

listened  while  the  musical  waters  still  rippled  over  the 

log  where  Joe  caught  the  famous  trout,  but  in  vain  he 

waited 

*' for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 

And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

There  upon  the  smooth  bark  of  a  great  holly  that 
stands  upon  the  bank  of  the  creek  were  the  carved  ini- 
tials "J.  M."  and  "J.  D."  The  letters  were  dim  to  the 
boy's  vision  that  day — dimmer  than  now  when  the 
mosses  of  twenty  years  are  clinging  to  the  bark.  Wher- 
ever he  went  there  were  things  to  remind  him  of  Joe. 
Upon  that  mighty  oak  Joe  had  killed  six  squirrels  one 
autumn  morning,  and  the  great  magnolia  spreading 
above  the  spring  branch  had  sheltered  a  gobbler  that 
fell  before  the  boy's  unerring  rifle.  What  boy  besides 
Joe  had  the  nerve  to  climb  the  old  tupelo  in  the 
slashes  for  the  vagrant  coon?  Upon  the  base  of  a 
lightning-blasted  oak  that  stood  just  beyond  the  sedge- 
field  were  traces  of  a  fire  the  boys  had  kindled  one 
winter  night  when  hunting  with  Uncle  Zeb,  and  upon 
that  log  they  were  seated  while  the  old  man  told  them 
a  marvelous  story  of  a  catamount  he  had  conquered  in 
the  long  ago.  Tom  seated  himself  where  Joe  had 
rested,  and  scratching  down  to  the  root  of  the  tree  found 
ashes — but  not  fresh  ashes  like  those  then  gathering 
about  his  heart.  At  every  step  something  sprang  up 
to  claim  a  sigh  until  he  hurried  home  for  sympathy. 

Since  that  sad  day  the  resistless  years  have  thun- 
dered by  building  up  and  pulling  down  mighty 
empires;  the  waters  have  worn  away  the  log  where 


"  THERE  NEVER  WUS  SECH  A  GAL  AS  SUSAN."      193 

Joe  caught  the  famous  fish,  and  the  attrition  of  many 
a  winter's  rain  has  brought  the  hillside  sands  to  fill 
the  lurking  place  of  the  trout.  Tom's  raven  locks 
show  the  pale  touches  of  sorrow,  the  memory  of  Joe  is 
still  fresh  under  the  burden  of  more  than  tw^enty  years, 
and  the  boy  love  for  his  big  brother  has  never  grown 
old. 

When  Goodnight  had  sufficiently  recovered  his 
strength  and  was  able  to  come  down  to  the  sitting- 
room  the  family  w^ere  all  assembled  to  hear  him  tell 
his  story. 

^You  know%  my  friend,"  said  the  Judge  very  sol- 
emnly, "  what  we  are  waiting  to  hear."  There  was  a 
painful  pause  of  a  few  moments  while  the  scout  tried 
to  press  down  a  lump  that  would  rise  in  his  throat, 
then  he  began: 

"  Oh,  Jedgel  It  breaks  my  heart  agin  to  be  herein 
his  old  home  an'  know  that  his  bright  face  is  gone 
from  us  forever.  I  thought  durin'  the  time  I  w^us  in 
prison,  an'  durin'  my  long  journey  here,  that  I  hed 
sorter  got  over  it;  but  Lawd!  Lawd!  it  all  comes  back 
to  me  so  strong  that  I  aint  a  man  enny  more." 

Here  the  brave  fellow  burst  into  tears,  and  for  a  few 
minutes  there  was  no  sound  save  the  sighs  and  sobs  of 
mourners — -then  bowing  upon  his  knees  the  aged  father 
lifted  his  trembling  voice  to  Him  who  wipes  away  all 
tears,  and  once  more  in  that  blessed  old  room  there  was 
the  rustle  of  angel  wings  while  the  comfort  of  the  Holy 
One  came  down  into  every  heart. 
9 


194  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all  aboutliim,"resumed Good- 
night, "but  I  aint  got  enny  fine  words  so  as  to  give  you 
enny  ideer  what  a  noble  fellow  Joe  was.  He  was  al- 
ways ready  to  do  his  duty  an'  no  man  ever  had  a  kinder 
heart  in  his  buzom.  When  it  come  to  a  fight  he  wus 
one  of  the  certenest  men  you  ever  seed.  He  w^ould  jest 
clinch  his  teeth  an'  wade  right  in  no  matter  if  it  wer 
rainin'  bullets,  an'  when  he  come  across  a  wounded 
inemy  he  w^us  jest  as  kind  as  if  it  was  his  own  brother. 
He  never  did  luv  the  war,  but  he  was  into  it  for  all  it 
wus  wuth,  an'  if  General  Lee  had  o'  told  him  to  take 
his  regiment  an'  go  up  to  Richmun  an'  clear  that  War 
Department  plum  out,  gentulmen,  he  wouldn't  a  left 
hair  nor  hide  of  it — woulder  jest  nachully  a  tumbled 
every  one  of  'em  into  the  Jeems  river.  Oh,  he'd  a  done 
it !  When  he  wus  in  camp  he  never  would  fergit  me 
an'  if  he  didn't  hev  but  t '  taters  for  a  day's  ration  he 
would  save  one  of  'em  for  me,  thinkin'  maby  I'd  come 
in  ofFen  a  scout  Iiongry — but  Lawd !  I  warn't  gwinter 
go  without  feed  if  there  wus  ennything  to  be  had.  I 
ingenerally  picked  up  lots  of  truck  o'  one  sort  an'  a 
nuther  out  in  the  country  an'  was  more  likely  to  have 
sumethin'  for  him." 

Goodnight  never  tired  of  telling  about  Joe's  battles, 
or  of  his  days  and  nights  in  the  trenches.  He  would 
dwell  with  animated  face  and  voice  upon  the  story  of 
Shiloh,  Murfreesboro',  Jackson,  Chickamauga,  Mission 
Ridge,  Cold  Harbor,  Spotsylvania,  and  all  those  fierce 
fights  about  Petersburg,  but  ever  as  he  came  to  that 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."       195 

last  sad  morning  he  would  think  of  some  other  detail 
of  camp  life  or  some  other  story  of  battle. 

"  But  I  must  come  to  the  last  an'  tell  you  how  me 
an'  Joe  parted  company." 

Then  he  detailed  all  the  incidents  of  that  talk  under 
the  stars,  and  of  the  last  wild  struggle.  How  they 
rushed  over  the  walls  and  bayoneted  the  defenders  at 
their  post ;  how  as  the  bright  sword  flashed  in  the  early 
lio^ht  the  cruel  bullet  did  its  work,  and  how  with  the 
name  of  father  and  Jennie  upon  his  lips  the  young 
soldier  turned  his  brave  face  up  to  the  brightening 
east  and  died  with  a  smile. 

"God  forgiv  me,  but  I  did  rebel  agin  his  decrees 
right  there,  an'  I  did  think  it  wus  cruel  to  let  that  boy 
be  killed,  with  me  left  livin  right  along  side  of  him. 
Oh,  Jedge!  You  orter  seen  him  when  he  put  one  hand 
on  that  big  cannon,  an'  wavin  his  sword — his  face 
lighted  up  jest  like  the  flash  that  was  comin  all  over 
the  east,  an'  he  shouted  as  clare  as  the  sound  of  a  rifle 
on  a  frosty  mornin.  Then  when  I  caught  him  in  my 
arms  he  jest  smiled  as  peaceable  like  as  a  child,  an'  he 
said: 

"  Goodnight,  the  war  is  over  an'  I'm  goin  home.' 

"  Then  he  shet  his  eyes  like  he  wus  gwine  to  sleep. 
Torectly  I  put  my  hand  on  his  side  an'  felt  fer  his 
heart,  but  it  wus  still. 

"  Them  Yankees  wus  jest  as  kind  to  me  as  if  I'd 
been  one  of  their  own  men,  an'  when  they  got  back  to 
the  big  gun  whar  me  an'  Joe  wus  and  seed  their  men 
layin  dead  as  thick  as  leaves,  they  wus  solium,  I  tell 


196  TOM    AND   JOE. 

you.  The  officer  in  charge  of  the  gun  wus  jest  as  ten- 
der as  a  'oman,  an'  helped  me  Lay  Joe  out  in  a  blanket; 
then  he  showed  me  whar  to  git  some  tools  fer  makin  a 
coffin  and  diggin  the  grave.  He  come  back  to  that 
big  pine  tree  whar  I  wus  diggin,  an'  when  I  wus  plum 
tired  out  he  took  holt  with  his  own  hands  an'  dug  like 
it  wus  his  own  friend  he  wus  workin  fer.  Heb'longed 
to  a  New  York  regiment,  an'  when  I  went  off  to  prizon 
he  took  charge  of  Joe's  sword  an'  said  I  could  git  it 
when  I  wus  exchanged.  I  told  him  your  name  an' 
whar  you  lived,  so  he  could  put  it  down  in  a  little 
book,  an'  if  he  lives  you'll  hear  from  him  some 
day." 

Thus  ended  his  sad  story  which  he  had  traveled 
nearly  a  irhousand  miles  to  tell;  then  the  old  scout  lin- 
gered for  a  week  or  more  with  his  good  friends.  Before 
he  left  he  went  over  one  day  to  pay  his  respects  to  Col. 
DuPree,  and  tell  Jennie  of  her  lover's  last  hours. 

The  news  had  already  spread,  and  of  the  fate  of  the 
young  soldier  Jennie  had  heard.  This  was  but  con- 
firmation of  the  dread  in  her  heart  that  had  lain  there 
since  during  those  awful  last  days  in  Richmond  she 
had  heard  that  Joe  was  missing.  Our  tender-hearted 
scout  was  melted  again  when  the  proud  little  lady 
came  into  his  presence.  Poor  Jennie  !  Her  false  pride 
had  vanished  in  the  presence  of  her  love.  When 
Goodnight  had  told  her  all  and  come  away  she  knew 
what  the  dead  boy's  message  meant;  then  the  little 
woman  covered  her  face,  and  refusing  to  be  comforted 
continually  moaned : 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."      197 

"Oh,  Joe!  My  brave  darling  I  I  wounded  j'our 
love,  and  now  you  will  never  come  back  to  me." 

Judge  Mabry  loaned  his  dead  son's  friend  money 
enough  to  purchase  suitable  clothing  and  pay  his  fare 
back  to  his  old  home,  where  he  went,  and  for  more  than 
two  years  there  was  no  word  from  him  until  one  day 
there  came  from  the  post-office  a  letter  directed  in  a 
bold,  angular  and  decidedly  peculiar  hand,  and  bear- 
ing a  strange  North  Carolina  post-mark.  Tom  was  at 
home  from  College,  it  being  vacation,  and  we  may  well 
imagine  that  the  entire  famil}^  listened  with  rare  pleasure 
to  the  following  rambling  epistle  from  their  old  friend : 

"  JoETOWN,  North  Carolina, 
"August  16th,  1867. 

"  Dear  Judge :  I  know  yow.  all  will  be  pleased  to  hear 
from  me  and  I  have  no  excuse  for  not  writing  earlier 
except  a  desire  to  surprise  j^ou  pleasantly.  Well,  I  came 
home  directly  from  your  house  and  found  Susan  look- 
ing prettier  and  sweeter  than  ever.  You  may  imagine 
I  didn't  take  any  excuse  but  went  to  see  the  parson 
and  in  one  week  we  were  married.  I  am  still  the  hap- 
jjiest  man  in  *01e  North  Carliney,'  and  I  still  don't  care 
who  knows  it.  Well,  sir,  as  soon  as  we  were  married 
she  took  hold  of  me  and  said  that  whilst  I  was  good 
enough  for  her,  or  anybody  else,  yet  for  my  own  sake 
she  proposed  to  put  an  extra  polish  on  me.  Would  you 
believe  it,  sir  ?  She  got  some  books  and  put  me  regu- 
larly at  school.  She  was  the  teacher  and  it  would  have 
made  a  horse  laugh  to  hear  me  spell.     Of  course  I 


198  TOM    AND    JOE. 

knew  a  little  about  spelling — mostly  the  phonetic  style, 
as  Susan  called  it,  but  she  made  me  buckle  to  and  learn. 
It  was  well  she  took  hold  of  me  in  time,  for  when  I  got 
well  used  to  her  I  was  so  interested  in  my  studies  that 
a  regiment  of  cavalry  couldn't  have  stopped  me.  I 
have  learned  about  all  that  Susan  can  teach  me — and 
her  father  was  sensible  enough  to  give  her  a  fair  edu- 
cation for  this  backwoods  country — so  you  see  I  am  a 
long  ways  in  advance  of  my  educational  condition  of 
two  years  ago.  I  reckon  I  am  still  what  poor  dear,  Joe, 
used  to  call  *a  rough  diamond,'  but  Susan  has  polished 
me  somewhat. 

"In  the  mean  time  I  had  to  work  very  hard,  but  there 
was  an  excellent  valley  on  Susan's  place,  and  I  made 
good  crops,  so  what  with  plenty  of  deer  in  the  moun- 
tains and  trout  in  the  river  we  never  suffered  for  pro- 
visions. 

"  This  would  seem  to  be  enough  good  fortune  for  a 
poor  devil  like  me,  but  there  was  more  luck  in  the  pot 
for  me,  and  I  couldn't  keep  my  hands  away  from  it. 
A  poor  little  hundred-acre  farm  that  was  my  boyhood 
home  was  still  mine,  but  there  was  no  good  soil  on  it, 
and  as  it  joined  Susan's  place  I  used  it  for  a  hog  pas- 
ture— there  being  a  world  of  mast  on  it  in  the  fall. 
About  one  year  ago  a  man  from  Pennsylvania — that 
place  with  the  long  name,  that  riled  me  so  the  first 
time  we  met — came  here  and  examined  the  hills  for 
several  days.  He  sta3^ed  at  my  house,  and  I  noticed 
that  he  wandered  about  my  hog-pasture  so  much  that 
I  began  to  suspect  him  of  designs  upon  my  shoats,  so 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."      199 

I '  upt '  and  asked  him  what  he  was  after.  He  said  he 
liked  the  country,  and  if  I  would  take  five  hundred 
dollars  for  that  little  tract  it  was  a  bargain.  Now  I 
had  heard  of  five  hundred  such  bargains,  so  I  looked 
him  right  square  in  the  face  and  told  him  that  the 
land  was  worth  more  to  me  than  it  possibly  could  be 
to  him — seeing  that  he  didn't  have  any  hogs  to  feed — 
and  that  if  he  had  discovered  anything  of  value  about 
the  place  I  would  do  the  fair  thing  for  the  information. 
You  see  I  began  to  smell  a  gold  mine  at  once,  but  he 
told  me  that  there  was  enough  granite  of  fine  quality, 
and  easy  of  access,  in  that  old  hill  where  I  sat  that 
night  when  the  devil  was  wrestling  with  me  about  Pete 
Brownlow,  to  build  a  city,  and  that  he  was  authorized 
to  offer  me  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  the  property. 

"  When  I  heard  that  sum  of  money  named  I  like  to 
have  fainted,  but  I  told  him  I  would  answer  him  in 
half  an  hour.  You  see  I  wanted  to  talk  with  Susan 
about  it  and  get  her  opinion,  for  you  must  know  that 
I  still  cling  to  my  old  assertion  that  Hhere  never  wus 
sech  a  gal  as  Susan.'  After  we  talked  it  over  I  told 
the  man  that  if  the  property  was  worth  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  a  half  interest  ought  to  be  worth  ten  thou- 
sand, and  that  I  would  rather  not  sell  the  whole  thing. 
He  finally  told  me  that  they  would  give  me  the  ten 
thousand  in  cash  and  ten  thousand  in  non-assessable 
stock,  besides  making  me  the  vice-president  of  the 
company. 

"  That  big  title  settled  me,  so  now  I  have  the  money 
and  am  a  vice-president.     We  have  two  hundred  men 


200  TOM   AKD   JOE. 

at  work,  have  run  a  tap  of  the  railroad  up  to  the  quarry, 
have  built  a  town,  established  a  post-office,  and  are 
doing  a  hog-killing  business.  We  keep  up  such  a  row 
all  the  time  with  giant  cartridges  that  I  have  to  go  ten 
miles  off  to  find  a  deer,  and  I  sometimes  dream  that  I 
am  back  in  Petersburg. 

"They  wanted  to  call  the  town  Knighton,  but  I  stuck 
out  for  '  Joetown,'  and  so  it  is.  I  have  just  been  elected 
to  the  Legislature  from  this  county,  and  must  spend 
a  part  of  my  time  trying  to  get  used  to  the  city  ways 
and  airs  of  Raleigh.  The  other  fellow  said  that  he 
could  prove  that  I  stole  a  horse  when  I  lived  in  Louis- 
iana, but  when  I  told  him  that  unless  he  did  prove  it 
I  would  make  him  eat  a  peck  of  dirt  at  one  meal  he 
* 'lowed'  he  was  joking.  He  didn't  carry  the  joke  any 
further. 

"Well,  my  dear  Judge,  I  have  written  a  long  letter, 
for  me,  and  now  I  must  close.  My  regards  to  Major 
Carter  and  Colonel  DuPree,  and  if  you  ever  see  John 
Barton  tell  him  I  have  quit  the  furniture-breaking 
business.  Please  remember  me  to  all  my  old  friends, 
to  whom  I  shall  always  feel  grateful  for  so  many  acts 
of  kindness  received  while  in  your  midst.  God  bless 
you! 

"With  much  love  for  you  and  yours,  I  am  your 
grateful  friend,  Caleb  Knight,  V.  P. 

"  P.  S. — There  is  the  finest  boy  in  old  North  Caro- 
lina at  our  house,  and  we  call  him  Joseph  Mabry 
Knight." 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."      201 

On  the  third  anniversary  of  Joe's  death  a  carriage 
containing  a  lady  and  two  gentlemen  drove  out  from 
Petersburg.  One  of  the  gentlemen  was  a  tall,  boyish- 
looking  young  man  about  nineteen  years  of  age;  the 
other  was  a  person  of  gigantic  frame,  and  kindly  face 
nearly  hidden  under  a  heavy  brown  beard,  both  hair 
and  beard  more  streaked  with  white  than  his  age  would 
justify.  Their  companion  was  dressed  in  black,  and 
her  fair  face  showed  traces  of  sorrow,  but  no  tears  had 
ever  been  able  to  quench  the  brightness  of  those  eyes, 
that  had  in  years  gone  by  looked  down  into  the  soul 
of  the  poor  soldier  boy  and  made  him  a  captive  forever. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  grass-grown  line  of 
earthworks  the  occupants  alighted,  and  the  elder  gentle- 
man acting  as  guide,  they  climbed  into  the  fortifications. 

"Here,"  said  Goodnight,  "is  the  place  where  we 
passed  out  of  our  works,  and  just  by  that  little  clump 
of  oaks  your  brother  led  his  regiment.  Just  there, 
Tom,  the  alarm  was  given,  and  as  we  mounted  that 
little  rise  the  first  load  of  grape  and  canister  passed 
over  our  heads.  The  next  shot  piled  up  some  gallant 
fellows,  and  the  third  would  have  done  a  power  of  mis- 
chief if  Joe  hadn't  been  so  quick  and  stopped  the  fel- 
low who  was  fixing  the  lanyard.  This  is  the  way  we 
went,  and  there  in  front  of  us  are  the  walls  of  Fort 
Steadman,  where  so  many  of  our  brave  men  lost  their 
lives." 

Jennie  snuddered  as  she  looked  upon  those  mute 
mementoes  of  the  great  struggle,  and  Tom's  heart 
swelled  within  him  as  he  thought  of  the  heroic  boy 


202  TOM   AND    JOE. 

who  climbed  over  those  walls  amid  the  storm  of  battle. 
When  they  reached  the  fort  Goodnight  helped  Jennie 
across  the  ditch  and  upon  the  walls. 

"Here  is  the  place  we  mounted,"  said  he,  "and right 
across  this  point  young  Featherstone,  Joe's  friend,  was 
lying  with  a  bullet  in  his  heart.  See  this  little  flat 
cove  of  a  place  with  the  rotting  timbers!  Here  was 
the  big  cannon,  and  under  it  I  sat  down  with  Joe  iu 
my  arms,  taking  no  more  interest  in  the  battle  than  if 
I  had  been  a  thousand  miles  away.  It  makes  me  right 
weak  now  to  think  about  it." 

Jennie's  fortitude  had  sustained  her  admirably  up  to 
this  point,  but  here  she  broke  down  and  the  sweet  little 
woman  wept  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  that  her  lover 
died.  Tom  tried  to  be  a  man  and  keep  back  the  great 
lump  that  was  in  his  throat,  but  the  poor  fellow  utterly 
failed,  and,  going  aside  to  a  little  mound,  sat  down  and 
wiped  away  the  blessed  tears  that  came  direct  from  his 
soft,  boyish  heart.  No  shame  upon  him  that  he  should 
weep,  but  rather  sham^  upon  the  man  whose  heart- 
fountains  are  dried  and  w^hose  tenderest  feelings  have 
been  allowed  to  wither. 

After  awhile  they  passed  on  to  the  graves  under  the 
tree,  and  there  beneath  that  mighty  pine  they  lingered 
until  the  western  sky  flushed  red  about  the  setting  sun. 
Then,  as  the  whippoorwill  in  a  neighboring  thicket 
struck  up  his  evening  song,  the  fair  girl  took  leave  of 
her  dead  lover  and  went  slowly  away  through  the  twi- 
light to  begin  another  volume  of  life,  in_which  Joe 
will  only  be  known  as  a  holy  memory.'  ~ 


"there  never  WUS  SECH  a  gal  as  SUSAN."      203 

And  here  we,  too,  must  leave  one  of  our  heroes  to 
sleep  with  the  "noble  army  of  martyrs,"  taking  this 
comfort  in  our  sorrow — the  tenderest  love  and  the  sub- 
limest  patriotism  of  all  the  coming  years  will  cluster 
about  that  lowly  grave,  and  all  heroic  endeavor  will 
emulate  the  dead  defender  of  a  vanished  nation.  \Ye 
leave  you  now,  dear  Joe  ;  but  the  young  men  and 
maidens  will  strew  your  grave  with  flowers  at  every 
return  of  spring,  and  by  the  hearthstone  on  many  a 
winter  night  the  old  soldier  will  tell  to  wondering  little 
ones  the  story  of  your  death. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

TOM  THE  PLO  UOHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET. 

T  TTHEN  all  armed  resistance  to  the  Federal  authority 
^^  ceased  the  people  of  the  South  had  reason  to  dread 
the  return  of  civil  authority.  The  magnanimous  terms 
proposed  by  General  Grant  at  the  surrender  were  re- 
garded with  wonder,  but  they  knew  that  with  the  end 
of  the  war  would  come  the  end  of  that  remarkable 
man's  power;  that  when  the  army  was  disbanded  and 
the  fierce  warriors  of  the  hustings  garrisoned  every 
courthouse  all  over  the  land,  there  w^ould  come  such  a 
time  of  proscription  and  petty- wrongs  as  never  before 
humiliated  a  brave  people.  They  were  not  mistaken. 
True  it  is,  there  were  but  few  imprisonments,  and  no 
executions  diitctly  on  account  of  the  war,  nor  were  the 
terms  of  the  military  surrender  violated,  but  a  policy 
was  adopted  in  settling  the  political  affairs  of  the  se- 
ceded States  that  for  ten  years  after  hostilities  ceased 
engendered  feelings  more  antagonistic  than  those  made 
alive  in  actual  conflict. 

We  will  not  discuss  the  policy  of  Reconstruction,  for 
in  the  light  of  history  it  proved  a  mournful  failure. 
We  may  forget  the  horrors  of  the  war  when  we  remem- 
l)er  its  glory,  but  the  insults  of  after  days  will  never  be 
forgotten.     The  people  of  the  South  absolutely  refused 

(204) 


TOM  THE  PLOUGHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET.       205 

to  be  comforted  by  such  a  return  into  the  Union,  and 
would  not  be  reconstructed.  They  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  the  great  problem  of  making  a  living  under  the 
new  order  of  things,  and  left  political  matters  to  their 
former  slaves,  who  were  marshaled  by  as  conscience- 
less a  set  of  plunderers  as  ever  held  office.  They  did 
not  willingly  or  carelessly  neglect  public  affairs,  but 
such  a  vast  number  were  disfranchised  that  the  remain- 
der would  not  engage  in  a  controversy  that  was  as 
hopeless  as  it  was  nauseating — besides,  while  unarmed 
and  helpless,  they  w^ould  not  engage  in  a  struggle  with 
armed  men.  They  thought  the  w^ar  had  ended  with 
the  surrender  of  the  armies,  but  soon  found  out  their 
mistake.  It  was  hard  enough  to  remain  at  home  in 
sullen  indifference  and  eschew  politics,  but  when  reck- 
less financial  management,  rightfully  called  stealing, 
had  destroyed  the  last  vestige  of  State  credit,  and  no 
more  bonds  could  be  sold  at  even  the  most  ruinous  dis- 
count, the  spoilers  reached  out  after  the  property  of  the 
people  with  a  rate  of  taxation  and  assessment  that  w^as 
equivalent  to  confiscation.  The  people  stood  all  the 
exactions  and  arbitrary  thefts  of  certain  bureau  officials, 
but  w^hen  affairs  culminated  in  bankruptcy,  there  was 
another  "  rebellion."  The  first, so-called,  was  in  favor  of 
"States  rights,"  the  last  was  for  individual  rights.  The 
former  was  for  a  political  theory;  the  latter  for  preser- 
vation of  homes,  for  wives  and  little  ones.  It  was 
bound  to  succeed.  No  array  of  bayonets  nor  the  thun- 
der of  cannon  can  coerce  a  people  defending  tlieir 
homes.     The  people  of  the  North  did  not  comprehend 


206  TOM    AND    JOE. 

the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  South.  They  do  not  now. 
They  had  acquiesced  in  a  policy  adopted  by  their  lead- 
ers and  took  no  further  interest  in  tlie  matter — except 
that  for  years  they  heedlessly  endorsed  every  act  of  the 
party  in  power,  without  inquiring  into  its  justice. 

Not  ten  days  would  the  people  of  Pennsylvania  have 
endured  such  outrages  as  were  the  common  lot  of  the 
property  owners  in  Louisiana  for  years.  The  fires  of 
rebellion  would  have  glowed  from  the  Delaware  to  the 
Alleghany  until  the  curse  was  removed,  and  the  west- 
ern mountains  would  have  trembled  under  the  thun- 
ders of  outraged  liberty.  Yet,  it  is  a  fact  that  for  more 
than  ten  years  the  people  of  the  latter  State  suffered 
and  waited,  however  impatiently,  for  the  mailed  hand 
to  be  taken  from  their  throats — all  the  while  being  as- 
sured that  the  war  had  ended.  Under  the  stress  of  a 
new  public  opinion  North,  the  heavy  military  hand 
was  removed,  and  as  the  temporal  power  of  Rome 
passed  away  with  French  bayonets,  so  the  robber  rule 
ended  in  Louisiana,  when  the  last  blue  coat  filed  out 
of  the  State-house,  leaving  the  people  to  republican  lib- 
erty and  the  management  of  their  own  affairs.  Once 
in  a  while  some  candid  business  man  from  one  of  the 
great  cities  would  visit  the  South  and  with  keen  per- 
ception would  note  the  wretched  state  of  affairs,  then 
upon  his  return  home  he  would  tell  w^itli  indignation 
the  story  of  the  wrongs  endured  by  that  people  until 
the  generous  sense  of  a  great  nation  w^as  aroused,  and 
tliey  saw  with  dismay  that  in  emancipating  and  enfran- 
chising the  slave  they  had  enslaved  the  master.     The 


TOM  THE  PLOUGHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET.       207 

American  people  are  primarily  just  in  their  ideas  and 
estimate  of  things,  but  in  the  mad  struggle  for  busi- 
ness they  sometimes  forget  the  claims  of  justice — yet 
not  long.  The  heart  and  brain  of  the  individual  as 
well  as  of  the  nation  are  in  the  closest  sympathy,  and 
generally  we  find  the  most  careful  judgment  hand  in 
hand  with  the  w^armest  sentiment. 

We  mention  this  condition  of  affairs  because  it  affects 
the  fortunes  of  some  of  our  characters,  and  is  far  reach- 
ing in  its  influences  upon  their  lives. 

In  the  midst  of  these  political  troubles  Tom  went 
away  to  college,  and  years  passed  before  he  realized 
the  patient  labor  and  loving  sacrifices  of  his  good  old 
father  that  enabled  him  to  remain.  We  think  had  he 
done  so  earlier  he  w^ould  have  employed  his  time  to 
better  purpose.  He  w^ould  have  studied  harder  and 
thought  less  of  frolicking.  No  doubt  he  would  have 
promenaded  fewer  times  under  the  oaks  in  front  of  the 
"Gallery,"  a  name  bestowed  by  the  students  upon  a 
certain  young  ladies'  academy  in  the  same  village. 
Instead  of  tinkling  his  guitar  and  catching  cold  to  the 
tune  of  the  "Lone  Starry  Hours"  in  front  of  that  same 
academy,  he  would  have  excelled  in  his  classes.  He 
would  have  been  satisfied  with  one-half  the  number  of 
gorgeous  neckties  and  high-heeled  boots.  Perhaps — 
but  the  very  doubt  implies  an  extra  doubt — he  would 
liave  fallen  in  love  fewer  times  and  would  have  been 
able  to  translate  his  Greek  Testament  lesson  on  Mon- 
day morning  without  the  assistance  of  King  James 
and  his  host  of  divines. 


208  TOM    AND   JOE. 

To  become  a  thorougli  student  a  boy  must  not  be  in 
love.  The  harassing  doubts  and  uncertain  hopes  that 
come  between  him  and  his  lessons  are  not  conducive 
to  study,  and  he  dreams  away  the  hours  that  ought  to 
be  devoted  to  better  purpose.  He  should  ignore  Cupid, 
and  bow  only  at  the  shrine  of  knowledge.  Give  him 
more  of  Cicero  and  less  of  Ovid.  Teach  him  how  to 
become  a  man.  He  will  become  a  lover  without  any 
teaching. 

It  was  Irving  who  told  of  the  young  prince  who  had 
been  brought  up  in  seclusion,  so  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  woman.  Unfortunately  for  the  peace  of  his 
realm,  while  out  walking  one  day  he  met  three  girls, 
daintily  arrayed,  and  boy-like,  took  an  intense  interest 
in  them  at  once.  His  guardian,  whom  it  is  needless 
to  add,  was  old  and  ugly,  hurried  him  away,  telling 
liim  that  those  creatures  he  saw  were  devils  such  as 
vex  and  undo  mankind;  but  ever  as  the  poor  fellow 
wearied  of  his  studies  he  would  heave  a  deep  sigh  and 
exclaim:  "Oh,  that  little  devil  in  blue!"  We  are  told 
that  his  passion  brought  him  unnumbered  woes,  and 
cost  him  his  kingdom. 

To  the  average  college  boy  the  "little  devil  in  blue" 
is  too  often  present,  enticing  him  away  from  his  books 
and  filling  his  mind  with  idle  fancies  or  liis  heart  with 
foolish  dreams.  From  what  we  can  learn  of  Tom  there 
is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  bright  little  devils  in 
every  hue  of  the  rainbow  disturbed  his  boyish  heart 
and  danced  with  fairy  feet  over  every  page  from  Xeno- 
phon  to  Differential  Calculus.     If  he  essayed  to  study 


TOM  TllK  PLOUGHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET.      209 

botany  the  fair,  laughing  face  of  Madge  looked  out 
from  its  pages  amidst  a  shower  of  rose-petals,  and  even 
among  the  Evidences  of  Christianity  he  saw  the  pew 
of  Major  Carter  in  the  old  hill-country  church,  while 
the  Sunday  morning  odor  of  violets  came  stealing  o'er 
his  senses.  No  study  was  so  dry  and  no  problem  so 
abstruse  but  some  bright-eyed  Gertrude  or  blushing 
Kate  peeped  over  the  top  of  the  page  and  won  for  him 
a  dreamy  demerit.  Even  amid  the  clouds  of  algebraic 
dust  that  ever  surrounds  the  unknowm  "X"  he  saw  the 
brown  ringlets  and  the  little  dimpled  hands  that  waved 
welcome  to  the  great  steamer  so  long  ago.  It  would 
have  been  w^ell  for  Tom  had  he  called  up  his  great 
will-power  and  banished  those  bright  fancies,  but  he 
went  on  dreaming  until  the  day  came  that  he  must 
meet  the  world  in  the  supreme  struggle  for  place. 
Then  he  saw  how  idle  were  those  dreams,  and  how^ 
unfitted  he  was  for  the  work  allotted  him.  Poor  fel- 
low! His  heart  ached  many  a  time  when  for  appear- 
ance sake  he  must  be  cheerful;  but  it  was  a  brave  heart 
and  hopeful,  so  he  worked  w^ith  an  energy  that  atoned 
somewhat  for  time  lost  in  dreaming — and  dreamed 
again  at  odd  moments.  His  heart  was  tenderer  for 
those  lost  dreams,  and  maybe  that  wdll  count  for  some- 
thing in  the  final  reckoning. 

The  sad  condition  of  the  country  had  its  effect  upon 
Judge  Mabry's  fortunes,  and  little  by  little,  under  the 
new  system  of  labor,  the  burden  of  taxation,  and  depre- 
ciation of  values,  the  remnant  of  his  wealth  disap- 
peared.    He  was  growing  older  in  strength  than  in 


210  TOM   AND   JOE. 

years,  and  when  his  noble  form  stooped  he  missed  the 
strong  arm  of  the  brave  boy  who  slept  beneath  the  old 
pine  in  front  of  Petersburg.  The  most  common  of  all 
the  pitiable  sights  in  the  Southland  since  the  war  is 
the  aged  father  or  mother  tottering  on  to  the  grave, 
calling  vainly  for  the  dead  boy  who  sleeps  upon  some 
distant  battle-field!  As  the  Judge  grew  older  he  be- 
came, if  possible,  gentler.  The  peace  which  flowed 
like  a  river  through  his  heart  was  such  as  comes  down 
to  the  weary  soul  that  hears  the  voice  of  the  Master, 
and  the  light  that  shone  upon  his  face  came  not  from 
material  sun  nor  stars. 

One  day  Tom  came  home  and  went  to  work.  He 
saw  the  wreck,  and  rolling  up  his  sleeves  he  seized 
hold  of  the  plow-handles  with  an  energy  born  of  pros- 
pective want. 

The  poet  Burns  was  a  ploughman,  and  so  was  Tom. 
Nor  are  we  afraid  to  suggest  that  he  could  discount  the 
poet  in  cutting  correct  furrows,  even  as  the  poet  could 
excel  Tom  in  penning  divine  verse — and  it  is  a  fact 
that  the  latter  used  to  woo  the  muse  sometimes,  in  a 
quiet  way.  If,  however,  a  tiny  mouse  ran  from  under 
his  plow  he  did  not  pause  to  sing  its  funeral,  but  killed 
it  in  a  natural  way  and  went  on  turning  the  sod.  If 
the  lark  sprang  up  at  his  feet  and  filled  the  air  with 
melody  as  it  soared  towards  the  sky,  he  thought  unut- 
terable things  and  sighed  for  his  shotgun  when  he 
remembered  that  the  musical  little  wretch  was  a  "ter- 
ror" among  the  young  cora.  Tom  never  stayed  out 
on   Saturday   night   with  jolly   companions,  singing 


TOM  THE  PLOUGHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET.       211 

doubtful  songs  and  drinking  bad  beer  in  some  ale- 
liouse,  but  slept  the  healthy  sleep  of  the  granger,  and 
went  to  church  next  morning  in  the  vain  hope  that 
Madge  would  not  observe  his  sunburnt  hands  and 
blistered  nose.  We  think,  if  we  may  judge  from  the 
conduct  of  the  tw^o  ploughmen,  that  our  Tom  was  the' 
better  man.  Yet  when  he  has  gone  to  his  reward  and 
the  old  hills  he  used  to  plough  have  gone  with  the 
waters  into  the  valley;  when  he  and  Madge,  with  all 
they  knew  or  loved,  shall  have  been  forgotten — yea, 
when  the  very  species  of  corn  that  Tom  used  to  plant 
shall  have  been  lost  to  agriculture,  the  poet  with  his 
sweet  songs  of  the  daisy  and  the  mouse — also  of  the 
little  creature  that  rhymes  with  mouse — will  be  fresh 
in  a  world's  memory.  This  is  manifestly  unjust,  but 
we  shall  not  attempt  to  correct  it,  nor  shall  we  try  to 
explain  why  our  young  man  w^as  not  considered  quite 
so  nice  as  when  his  hands  were  white  and  his  head  a 
shade  softer. 

Personally  a  man  who  follows  the  plough  is  not  so 
acceptable  in  society  although  mentally  and  moral  1}^ 
he  may  outrank  most  of  his  fellow^s.  There  is  an 
indefinable  air  of  horse  lots  and  newly-ploughed  soil 
in  his  manner  that  clings  to  him,  even  in  the  ball- 
room. He  may  be  fit  to  command  armies  and  do 
deeds  of  daring  or  kindness  that  make  him  immortal, 
but  society  has  another  st-andard  to  w^hich  the  poor 
ploughman  may  never  hope  to  roach.  People  go  into 
raptures  over  the  performance  of  a  great  English 
statesman  who  once  or  twice  during  the  year  pulls  off 


212  TOM    AND    JOE. 

liis  coat  and  chops  down  a  British  oak,  and  they  even 
carry  away  the  chips  as  so  many  jDriceless  souvenirs 
for  the  admiration  of  a  hero-worshiping  world,  but 
suppose  that  noble  old  Englishman  was  compelled  to 
cut  wood  for  allying?     Suppose! 

The  drawing-room  does  not  always  look  to  a  man's 
moral  worth. 

Tom  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  ploughman  Burns, 
and  thought  the  poet  must  have  directed  the  most  of 
his  sweetest  verses  to  the  great-grandmother  of  Madge, 
so  w^ell  did  they,  sing  the  loveliness  of  the  daughter. 
He  was  always  ready  at  less  than  a  moment's  notice 
to  rhapsodize  that  maiden's  charms  in  tendercst  verse. 
Three  years  absence  at  college  had  wrought  wonders 
in  Tom,  and  his  little  princess  had  donned  the  airs 
and  skirts  of  a  young  lady,  so  the  old-time  intimacy 
was  gone,  und  stately  formalism  took  the  place  of 
innocent  confidence. 

Madge  was  the  very  spirit  of  life  an<d  mirth,  but  she 
exhibited  in  Tom's  presence  a  reserve  that  he  w\is  not 
wise  enough  to  understand ;  so  he  grew  savage  under  the 
torture,  and  resented  what  he  took  to  be  indifference. 
One  day  he  sought  her,  and  with  stammering  tongue 
told  her  how  her  coldness  wounded  him,  and  how  he 
had  always  loved  her  since  they  were  children  together. 

"  You  are  cruel  to  me,  Madge,"  said  he ;  "  you  can  be  as 
full  of  life  as  a  bird  when  you  are  wdth  others,  yet  when  I 
try  to  talk  to  you  I  am  answered  with  *yes'  and  'no.'" 

"  I  don^t  see  why  you  should  say  so,  I  am  sure,"' 
replied  Madge  hotly.     "If  I  am  livelier  with  others 


TOM  THE  TLOUGHMAN  AND  BURNS  THE  POET.       213 

maybe  it  is  because  they  try  better  to  entertain  me. 
You  are  accusing  me  wrongfully." 

"It  looks  that  way  to  me,  Madge;  and  I  don't 
understand  it.  I  know  that  I  am  poor  and  have  to 
work  hard  for  a  living;  but  I  try  to  do  my  duty,  and 
you  will  never  find  a  man  who  will  love  you  more 
earnestly  and  unselfishly." 

"I  thank  you  for  the  love,  Tom,  which  I  am  sure  is 
honest,  and  I  am  unworthy  of  it,  but  you  are  foolishly 
unjust.  Besides,  I  am  not  hunting  for  a  man  of  any 
sort;  and  your  remark  about  poverty  is  entirely  out  of 
place.  It  is  a  mean  insinuation  that  I  care  for  wealth 
rather  than  love,  and  is  unworthy  of  you." 

Then  the  young  lady.got  angry,  and  the  more  Tom 
tried  to  explain  the  more  foolish  things  he  said  and 
the  angrier  she  became,  until  finally  she  told  him  that 
he  had  better  remain  away  until  he  formed  a  more 
correct  opinion  of  one  he  professed  to  love. 

Tom  was  very  simple  in  those  days,  and  just  then 
he  acted  very  foolishly.  Instead  of  going  away  and 
letting  the  storm  blow  over  he  undertook  to  argue  the 
matter.  When  he  grew  older  he  learned  how  useless 
it  was  to  argue  with  a  woman ;  especially  an  angry 
woman.     When  he  left  he  said : 

"Good-bye,  Madge!  When  you  think  you  wih  oe 
glad  to  see  me  say  so,  and  I'll  come  to  you  though  I 
have  to  cross  the  seas." 

"If  you  wait  until  I  send  for  you  I  think  you'll 
grow  tired,"  was  the  reply  of  that  spirited  young  lady, 
with  just  a  suspicion  of  slang.     And  thus  they  parted. 


214  TOM    AND    JOE. 

As  a  result  of  this  quarrel  Tom  went  home  swelling 
with  wrath;  and  Madge,  like  a  true  woman,  went  to 
her  room  and  indulged  in  a  good  cry. 

"Poor,  dear  Tom  !"  she  said  to  her  confidential  pil- 
low that  night — "he  is  awfully  foolish  sometimes,  but 
he  is  just  as  brave  and  generous  as  he  can  be.  I  was 
ugly  to  him  this  evening,  but,  never  mind,  it  will  be  all 
right  when  we  meet  again." 

When  she  went  off  to  sleep  she  dreamed  that  a  great 
river  separated  her  from  her  lover,  and  while  they  fol- 
lowed down  its  banks  beckoning  and  calling  to  each  other 
the  stream  grew  wider  and  wider,  until  she  could  hear 
his  voice  no  more. 

Tom  experienced  a  change  of  heart  also,  that  night, 
and  mentally  kicked  himself  a  dozen  times  for  being  an 
idiot. 

"  Bless  her  little  heart !  I  was  a  fool,  and  I  am  afraid 
it  has  become  a  fixed  habit  with  me,  that  I  must  try  to 
break  myself  of.  She's  spirited,  and  I  love  her  all  the 
more  for  it.  When  I  see  her  again  I'll  own  up  what  a 
booby  I  was,  and  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  she'll  for- 
give me."  Then  he  went  to  sleep,  too,  and  his  dreams 
were  such  awful  things  as  visit  the  pillow  of  a  man 
who  has  eaten  too  much  supper. 

Tom  quit  betting  such  ponderous  sums  of  money 
after  that,  and  confined  himself  to  such  society  stakes 
as  a  pair  of  gloves  or  a  pound  cf  bonbons. 

The  next  day  Madge  went  away  to  school,  and  wlien 
in  after  j^ears  they  met  again  both  she  and  Tom  were 
as  much  wiser  as  they  were  older. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


"  NO  W  LET  ME  BEST.'' 


n^OM  worked  very  hard  during  two  crop  seasons; 
J^  then  one  day  when  he  had  ploughed  to  the  end  of 
a  long  row  that  was  ambushed  every  yard  with  stumps 
and  roots  he  swore  mildly  and  w^ent  to  the  house. 

"Mother!" — he  exclaimed.  "I'm  going  to  quit 
ploughing.  It  don't  pay,  and,  besides,  if  I  follow  that 
mule  another  week  they'll  have  to  turn  me  out  of  the 
church." 

This  was  very  wicked  in  Tom,  but,  dear  reader,  if 
you  never  ploughed  with  a  mule  in  fallow  ground 
where  vines  and  roots  and  various  other  diabolical  agen- 
cies lie  in  wait  to  harrow^  up  your  very  soul ;  or,  if  you 
never  drove  a  team  of  oxen  during  a  hot  day  over  a 
rough  road,  and  wrestled  wath  them  in  a  miry  pool  of 
water,  you  are  unacquainted  with  even  the  rudiments 
of  vexation.  A  ninety  days'  note  going  to  protest,  or 
the  loss  of  an  election  where  your  money  has  gone  like 
water  for  "  legitimate  campaign  expenses,"  is  an  inno- 
cent amusement  in  comparison.  The  man  who  can 
plough  over  a  two-acre  patch  of  such  ground  and  not 
lapse  into  profanity  is  a  slow  milk-and-water  chap  who 
wouldn't  swear  any  how,  or  he  is  in  daily  expectation 
of  a  pair  of  w^ngs. 

(215) 


216  TOM    AND    JOE. 

Of  course  it  is  wrong  to  swear,  and  any  man  who 
uses  profane  language,  no  matter  under  what  provica- 
tion,  is  not  altogether  the  nice  gentleman  that  he  was 
before.  Ilis  moral  perception  is  to  a  certain  degree 
blunted,  and  his  soul  is  not  so  fair  as  it  was.  Tlie  most 
overwhelming  evil  in  polite  society  to-day  is  tlie  pro- 
fane tendency  of  conversation  among  gentlemen,  and 
it  would  be  bad  enough  if  they  used  only  strong  ex- 
pletives without  coupling  therewith  the  sacred  Kame, 
but  the  sacrilege  is,  unfortunately,  always  present. 

"And  mother,"  continued  Tom,  "lam  afraid  I  swore 
a  little  when  the  plough  handle  punched  me  in  the 
ribs  and  I  struck  my  shin  against  the  hard  end  of  a 
root." 

"  Oh,  Tom !  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself?  How 
badly  your  dear  father  would  feel  if  he  heard  of  your 
using  profane  language !  You  had  better  get  some  soap 
and  wash  your  mouth  as  I  used  to  make  you  do  when 
you  said  ugly  words.  Then,  my  dear  son,  there  is  a 
stain  on  your  pure  soul  that  no  soap  and  water  v/ill 
wash  away." 

"I  know  it  was  naughty,  mammy  dear ;  but  have'nt 
I  confessed  ?  What's  the  good  of  confession  if  yon  are 
not  forgiven?  Besides  I  didn't  swear  very  bad;  not 
much  worse  than  the  poor  little  'dog-gone'  I  used  to 
use  when  a  little  boy.  I  won't  do  so  any  more  unless 
I  go  back  to  the  plougli,  in  which  event  I  won't  make 
any  rash  promises." 

"We  are  glad  to  record  that  our  young  man  quit 
swearing — when  he  quit  ploughing. 


217 

The  good  old  Judge  grew  feebler  and  more  uncom- 
plaining as  the  weeks  passed,  and  one  day  the  old  man, 
who  had  always  been  so  active,  remained  seated  by  the 
fire.  He  did  not  stir  out  that  day,  nor  the  next,  and 
soon  it  came  about  that  his  easy  chair  was  placed  for 
him  in  vain ;  but  he  remained  in  bed,  and  the  good 
mother  busied  herself  to  prepare  little  appetizing 
dishes  for  him,  which  were  often  untouched.  Some- 
times one  or  another  of  the  family  read  to  him  a  sweet 
Psalm,  or  those  ever-soothing  words:  "Let  not  your 
hearts  be  troubled."  He  talked  often  of  Joe  in  those 
days,  and  told  little  incidents  of  the  young  soldier's 
childhood  that  had  escaped  the  memory  of  busier  peo- 
ple. He  did  not  seem  to  regard  his  boy  as  dead,  but 
only  absent,  and  that  one  day  he  w^ould  return.  The 
family  humored  all  his  conceits,  and  lingered  about 
his  bed  with  the  tenderest  solicitude,  always  seeking 
to  anticipate  his  wants.  The  weeks  lengthened  into 
months,  and  the  glad  Christmas  time  w^as  brightening 
o'er  all  the  earth  when  it  became  apparent  that  the 
busy  life  was  about  to  be  surrendered.  The  evening 
sun  was  low  dowm  the  w^estern  sky  on  the  day  before 
Christmas,  and  all  the  family  were  about  the  bedside, 
when  the  sick  man  aroused,  and  looking  around  on 
the  different  faces,  asked : 

"Where  is  Joe?" 

"He  will  be  here  directly,  dear,"  answered  the  mother 
as  her  kind  eyes  filled  wdth  tears. 

"Open  the  window,  please?  I  want  to  see  the  sky." 
The  sufferer  looked  long  and  lovingly  out  over  the 
10 


218  TOM    AND    JOE. 

yard  and  across  the  expanse  of  field  stretching  away 
to  tlie  swamp  where  our  Tom  found  shelter  during  the 
last  day  of  the  war,  then  there  stole  over  his  face  an 
expression  of  abundant  peace.  What  were  his  thoughts 
in  that  solemn  hour  angels  may  never  tell,  but  we 
know  that  they  were  pure  and  holy. 

"Ah,  yes!  that  will  do,  thank  you.  How  glorious 
is  the  sun  in  his  setting.  'The  heavens  declare  the 
glory  of  God,'"  then  with  a  sigh  of  comfort  he  sank 
back  on  his  pillow  saying: 

"Now  let  me  rest,"  and  the  everlasting  gates  opened 
wide  for  the  faithful  old  man. 

"Oh,  kindest  of»fathers  and  bravest  of  brothers!" 
exclaimed  Tom  weeping.  "  You  have  left  me  deso- 
late, and  the  earth  is  poorer  since  you  went  away." 

The  night  after  the  funeral  of  Judge  Mabry  only 
Tom,  his  sister  Janet,  and  mother  were  left  of  the  dis- 
consolate family,  and  these  were  seated  about  a  great 
fire  in  the  old  parlor.  The  others  had  homes  of  their 
own,  with  new  ties  and  new  duties. 

"Mother,"  said  Tom  after  a  pause,  "this  is  no  coun- 
try for  me.  I  do  not  think  that  I  can  make  a  living  out 
of  these  old  hills,  and  I  have  determined  to  go  away 
to  some  section  where  there  is  a  chance  for  a  young 
man.  I  think  I  shall  seek  some  place  to  put  my 
knowledge  of  civil  engineering  into  practice,  and  I  am 
informed  that  in  the  great  Northwest  there  is  no  end 
to  railroad  building,  tunneling  and  bridging.  Here  I 
ran  do  nothing,  with  the  terrible  curse  hanging  over 
our  State.     There  is  absolutely  nothing  to  do  except 


219 

digging  in  the  soil,  and  I  am  tired  of  that.  I  have  no 
means  to  go  into  planting  extensively,  and  I  would 
likely  loose  all  I  have  any  way  with  this  poor  system  of 
labor.  The  condition  of  affairs  here  is  bound  to  end 
sooner  or  later  if  we  have  to  fight  over  it  again,  and  as 
certain  as  fate  there  will  be  more  blood  letting  all  over 
this  Southland.  I  am  going  away,  but  if  this  people 
get  into  a  row  with  the  scalawags  and  negroes  I  will 
return  and  give  dear  old  Joe's  sword  some  fresh  work 
to  do.  I  am  glad  that  clever  Yankee  officer  sent  it 
home,  and  I  should  like  to  know  him  for  I  feel  sure 
I  would  like  him.  Some  men  have  big  souls.  But 
regarding  these  internal  troubles,  and  the  unbearable 
insolence  of  the  negroes,  I  speak  but  the  sentiments  of 
our  entire  people,  who  have  no  desire  to  try  the  issue 
of  another  war,  but  will  not  be  dogged  to  death  by  a 
parcel  of  money-seeking  reprobates  from  the  North.'' 
Tom  was  but  a  boy,  yet  he  spoke  the  sentiments  of 
men.  It  is  a  fact  that  five  years  after  the  close  of  the 
late  war  the  people  of  the  South,  under  what  was 
termed  "  carpet-bag  rule,"  were  in  more  of  a  fighting 
humor  than  at  any  time  during  the  conflict,  and  but 
for  wiser  counsels  both  North  and  South  the  internal 
troubles  South  would  have  burst  forth  into  actual  war. 
There  were  more  than  a  million  desperate  men  whose 
reckless  fury  would  have  caused  more  loss  of  blood  and 
treasure  than  the  world  ever  saw^  in  one  struggle.  It 
would  not  have  been  a  war  of  brothers,  but  the  un- 
tamed wrath  of  blood-thirsty  tigers.  The  people  of 
the  South  were  desperate,  and  they  were  united  as  they 


220  TOM    AND    JOE. 

never  were  before.  Men  who  would  not  fight  for  a 
political  idea,  or  a  social  theory,  would  have  gone  to 
death  under  personal  wrong,  and  the  solemn,  immuta- 
ble truth  remains  that  a  race  of  Anglo-Saxon  masters 
will  never  rest  under  the  domination  of  their  late 
slaves — nor,  in  fact,  under  an}^  other  tyranny.  It  took 
the  people  of  the  North  a  long  while  to  find  this  out, 
and  they  would  only  believe  it  after  thousands  of  their 
old  soldiers  had  come  here  to  live,  and  had  become 
imbued  with  the  same  spirit  of  resistance.  They  were 
slow  to  learn  that  brute  force  would  never  solve  the 
Southern  question.  Their  citizens  came  here  to  live — 
strong,  active,  energetic  fellows,  and  the  first  lesson 
they  learned  was  that  the  white  man  must  rule.  Never 
did  school  have  pupils  more  apt.  So  it  came  about 
that  better  ideas  prevailed,  and  to-day,  except  when 
some  old  political  hack  wants  an  office  or  some  idiot 
needs  confinement,  a  stranger  would  never  know  there 
had  been  a  war.  The  same  feelings  expressed  by  Tom 
actuated  every  man,  and  the  same  hope  of  finding  a 
land  where  race  troubles  were  unknown  and  there  was 
a  prospect  of  reward  for  energy  and  industry,  drove 
thousands  of  our  best  people  away.  Many  went  to 
Texas  or  California,  and  many  more,  like  our  Tom, 
determined  to  go  to  the  Yankee  and  learn  his  ways. 

Thus  it  happened  that  when  the  sun  of  a  bright 
"New  Year"  broke  through  the  fog  that  hung  in  great 
clouds  over  the  mighty  Mississippi  its  first  rays  fell 
u[)on  the  deck  of  an  up-country  steamer  and  lighted 
up   the  sad   features  of  a  tall   young  man  who  had 


"now  let  me  kest."  221 

started  out  into  the  world  in  search  of  fortune,  and  had 
left  Belhaven  forever.  Away  from  the  grave  of  father; 
away  from  tlie  scenes  forever  hallowed  by  the  memory 
of  Joe;  away  from  the  presence  of  Madge,  and  into  the 
untried  realities  of  life  among  strangers  went  Tom,  so 
no  wonder  that  when  at  night  he  lay  in  his  little  cabin 
listening  to  the  ponderous  strokes  of  the  great  engine, 
and  heard  the  rush  of  dark  waters,  a  feeling  of  utter 
loneliness  came  over  him  and  there  was  the  moisture 
of  tears  upon  his  pillow. 

From  St.  Louis  he  wrote  a  letter  to  mother  telling 
her  that  he  would  start  the  next  morninof  out  to  the 
mountains  of  the  West,  where  he  hoped  to  find  work 
and  build  a  new  home  among  that  bustling  people. 
That  night  ere  he  retired  he  penned  a  short  note  to  his 
little  Princess.     Rewrote: 

*' Madge,  dear,  you  were  angry  with  me  when  we 
parted,  but  there  were  tears  in  your  sweet  eyes,  so  I 
think  I  may  yet  hope.  I  have  gone  away  out  of  your 
life,  and  away  from  all  I  love,  yet  some  day  I  trust  to 
see  you  again.  You  told  me  to  leave  you,  and  I  have 
done  so.  When  you  call  me  back  I  will  come.  I  shall 
listen  ever  for  your  call.  You  know  my  heart,  and 
you  can  trust  me.     Good-bye. 

"Your  faithful 

"Tom." 

Such  was  the  little  missive  that  sweet  Madge  wept 
over  and  read  again  and  again  for  many  a  year,  until 
its  words  were  burned  into  her  heart. 


222  TOM    AND    JOE. 

The  next  morning,  away  past  bustling  new  cities, 
through  vast  fields  of  young  grain,  over  mighty  rivers 
and  through  dark  tunnels,  away  he  whirled  past  lonely 
farm-houses  and  restless  herds  of  cattle;  away, on  and  on, 
over  plains  of  sand  where  the  cayoto  skulked  amid  the 
sage-brush,  until  one  bright  afternoon  Tom  looked  out 
and  for  the  first  time  beheld  the  snow-capped  moun- 
tains towering  towards  the  heavens. 

Those  western  mountains  have  taken  into  their  shad- 
ows the  adventurous  youth  of  every  State.  Some 
come  out  strong  and  fair,  while  others  wreck  their 
young  manhood  and  are  forever  lost  to  waiting  loved 
ones.  Tom  had  but  a  few  dollars  left  and  he  had  no 
intention  of  loitering.  His  first  thought  was  to  secure 
work.  Several  of  the  great  railroads  were  pushing  out 
into  the. mountain  country,  and  to  effect  their  purposes 
required  an  enormous  outlay  of  muscle,  money  and 
skill.  No  young  man  with  a  will  to  work  need  be  idle. 
There  was  plenty  to  do  if  one  w^as  not  too  particular. 
Arriving  at  Denver,  the  wonderful  young  mountain  city, 
Tom  enjoyed  a  good  night's  rest,  and  then  bright  and 
early  he  sought  the  office  of  the  \V.  Y.  Railway,  where 
he  was  in  waiting  long  before  the  officials  were  in  their 
places.  He  walked  the  corridor  impatiently  until  he 
was  accosted  by  a  kindly  old  gentleman  w^ith — 

"Well,  my  young  man,  Avhat  can  we  do  for  you  to- 
day?" 

"  If  you  please,"  replied  Tom,  "  I  would  be  glad  to 
see  Col.  Elmore,  the  Chief  Engineer,     Is  he  in  ?" 


"now  let  me  rest."  223 

"  Yes,  you  are  fortunate  in  finding  him  here.  Had 
you  been  an  hour  later  you  would  have  been  compelled 
to  seek  him  a  hundred  miles  away  in  the  mountains. 
Come  this  way" — and  following  as  he  was  directed,  he 
was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  a  fine,  soldierly  look- 
ing man  with  brown  beard  and  mustache. 

"Colonel  Elmore,"  spoke  the  old  gentleman,  "here  is 
a  young  man  who  seeks  you  early  and  looks  like  he 
means  business." 

"  Be  seated  sir,"  said  Colonel  Elmore,  courteously , 
"and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"You  are  very  kind  sir,"  answered  Tom.  "My 
name  is  Thomas  Mabry,  and  I  am  hunting  for  work. 
I  have  studied  civil  engineering  and  am  anxious  to  be- 
come practically  expert  in  that  line,  but  I  am  ready  to 
do  any  honorable  work  you  may  give  me." 

Tom  was  trembling  with  excitement  by  this  time, 
for  it  was  his  first  venture  out  into  the  world  and  ho 
greatly  feared  a  denial.  Colonel  Elmore,  smiled  in  sym- 
pathy for  the  stammering  fellow,  and  came  to  his  res- 
cue by  saying : 

"You  look  like  an  honest,  courageous  young  man, 
and  I  think  we  can  find  something  for  you  to  do. 
Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"I  hope,  sir,  you  won't  let  it  militate  against  me," 
answered  Tom,  "  but  I  am  from  the  far  South — from 
Louisiana."  Tom  had  spoken  indiscreetly,  as  he  ofteil 
did,  and  was  thunderstruck  at  the  answer.  He  should 
have  simply  stated  his  residence,  and  raised  no  ques- 
tion of  prejudice. 


224  TOM    AND    JOE. 

"  We  don't  want  any  rebels  here,"  said  the  Colonel, 
sternly,  "and  unless  you  have  left  your  treasonable 
sentiments  behind  you  had  better  go  back  to  your  own 
section.  You  Louisiana  rebels  are  giving  the  govern- 
ment a  world  of  trouble  any  how  and  should  be  dealt 
with  severely." 

If  Tom  had  been  foolish  in  his  answer  he  now 
showed  the  grand  courage  of  his  convictions,  and 
springing  to  his  feet  with  blazing  face  and  fierce  words 
he  replied — 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  you  cussea  Yankees  were 
a  malignant,  unforgiving  set,  with  no  good  word  or 
deed  for  a  man  who  does  not  agree  with  you.  I  spurn 
your  ofiPer  of  work,  sir,  and  I  will  gladly  go  back  to 
where  people  have  souls.  Leave  my  sentiments  be- 
hind! I'll  speak  them  anywhere  on  God's  footstool 
that  it  pleases  me  to  open  my  mouth.  I  am  ashamed  of 
you.  Colonel  Elmore !  And  to  think  that  you  claim  to 
be  an  American — oh,  I'm  disappointed  in  you  !  When 
I  was  so  pleased  with  your  reception  and  your  looks. 
Colonel  Elmore,  you  look  like  a  gentleman,  but — God 
help  me  ! — you  don't  act  like  one.  I'll  go,  sir  ;  but  I 
would  advise  you  to  come  South  and  learn  how  to  be  a 
gentleman." 

Colonel  Elmore  broke  out  into  a  ringing  laugh  at 
this  last  remark,  and  said : 

"Hold  on,  my  boy!  I  was  only  trying  you  to  see  if 
you  would  stand  up  for  your  side.  I  am  satisfied 
Sit  down  again  and  let  me  tell  you  my  views  Don't 
misjudge  me.     Louisiana  is  an  American  State,  and 


"now  let  me  rest.'^  225 

her  sons  are  my  brothers.  I  am  a  New  Yorker,  but  I 
may  become  a  Georgian,  or  a  Texan,  or  a  citizen  of 
any  other  State  to-morrow ;  yet  first,  last  and  all  the 
time  I  am  an  American  !  I  think  I  shall  be  proud  of 
you,  and  if  you  are  the  metal  I  take  you  to  be  you 
will  find  no  trouble  about  employment.  It  will  rest 
with  you  whether  or  not  you  succeed.  Come  now  and 
let  us  'shake  hands  across  the  bloody  chasm,^  until  we 
can  get  out  to  the  front,  when  we  will  fill  it  up  with 
dirt  and  rocks!" 

"  And  your  name  is  Mabry  ?  Do  you  know  a  Judge 
Mabry,  of  Louisiana?     He  lives  in  Feliciana  parish." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  Tom's  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  he  replied : 

"  He  was  my  father.  One  of  the  best  and  dearest  of 
men." 

"  Was  your  father?  I  am  truly  sorry  to  know  that 
he  is  dead.  I  have  a  letter  from  him  written  some 
years  ago  in  answer  to  a  note  from  me  when  I  sent 
him  the  sword  of  his  gallant  son,  who  was  killed  just 
as  he  had  captured  my  gun  at  Fort  Steadman.  It  is 
a  noble  letter ;  so  dignified  and  kindly  in  tone,  and  so 
full  of  gratitude  to  me  for  sending  home  his  boy's 
sword.  I  am  truly  glad  to  meet  you,  Tom ;  I  won't 
stand  on  ceremony  with  you;  and  you  shall  have 
pleasant  employment,  as  much  for  the  sake  of  your 
noble  old  father  and  your  heroic  brother,  as  for  your 
own.  Get  yourself  ready  to  go  with  me  to  the  front, 
where  your  place  will  be  in  the  future.  I  will  start 
in  an  hour.     Pack  your  valise,   and  you   can  store 


226  TOM   AND   JOE. 

your  trunk  in  our  warehouse  until  you  make  perma- 
nent arrangements." 

"Colonel  Elmore !"  exclaimed  the  happy  boy,  "I  don't 
know  how  to  thank  you  in  words,  but  I  will  prove  to 
you  that  I  am  grateful  when  I  go  to  work  in  your 
employ.  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon,  too,  for  the  hard 
things  I  said  about  the  Yankees,  for  I  am  sure  now 
that  they  are  not  all  mean." 

"  No  more  of  that,  my  boy.  The  better  you  know 
our  people  the  more  you  will  admire  them,  and  this 
will  teach  you  a  lesson.  Never  condemn  any  person 
or  nationality  upon  hearsay.  Most  persons  have  some 
good  in  them.     Let  us  get  to  work  now." 

Promptly  at  the  hour  the  chief  engineer's  car  rolled 
out  upon  its  journey  to  the  construction  camp,  and  our 
Tom  was  a  passenger.  It  was  his  first  ride  among  the 
mountains,  and  Colonel  Elmore,  seeing  how  absorbed 
the  boy  was  in  the  grand  panorama  which  moved 
swiftly  past  him,  did  not  disturb  him  save  to  call  his 
attention  to  some  especially  beautiful  view. 

"This  is  vastly  different  from  my  Louisiana  home, 
Colonel,  and  I  confess  it  attracts  me  with  its  beauty 
and  novelty.  There  I  walk  out  amid  the  grand  old 
forest  trees  and  when  I  view  the  heavens  I  must  look 
up,  so  they  seem  a  great  way  off;  but  here  from  these 
elevations  I  look  away  and  see  the  sky  coming  down 
all  around  me  until  it  grasps  the  earth  in  its  embrace, 
or  when  we  rush  into  some  deep  valley  it  seems  fur- 
ther off  than  ever." 


227 

"To  me,"  responded  Colonel  Elmore,  ''these  glorious 
hills  are  forever  new.  I  love  the  mountains  as  I  love 
nothing  else  in  nature,  and  I  think  I  shall  make 
my  home  among  them  some  day.  There  is  such 
variety  about  the  mountains  that  one  never  tires.  One 
hour  they  are  clothed  in  happy  sunshine,  yet  in  the 
next  the  soft  white  mists  will  cling  about  them  like 
the  garments  of  a  bride.  To-day  the  peace  of  Heaven 
seems  to  rest  upon  them,  but  to-morrow  they  will  trem- 
ble amid  the  thunders  of  some  unchained  tempest. 
Yes,  I  love  the  mountains,  although  one  would  think, 
from  the  tunnels  I  bore  and  the  great  gaps  I  cut  through 
them,  that  they  were  a  line  of  mortal  enemies  I  am 
bound  to  destroy." 

Our  party  soon  reached  the  terminus  of  the  road, 
and  here  Tom  saw  one  of  those  peripatetic  towns  of 
which  the  people  of  old  settled  communities  can  have 
no  conception — a  town  that  drops  itself  with  a  rattle 
and  bang  into  some  quiet  valley  to-day,  and  for  a 
month  or  more  seems  all  the  time  one  motley  eircus 
performance,  then  moves  on,  leaving  the  once  lovely 
spot  to  desolation  and  abandoned  tin  cans.  There  are 
also  a  half  score  or  more  of  lonely  graves,  where  rest 
the  bodies  of  men  who  "died  with  their  boots  on,"  or 
women  who  sought  forgetfulness  in  the  deadly  opium. 
The  host  of  gamblers,  laborers,  loafers,  and  courtesans 
have  moved  on  to  make  a  six-weeks'  hell  in  some  other 
quiet  spot. 

Tom  went  to  work  at  once.  His  kind  new  friend 
showed  him  what  he  wanted  done  and  how,  then  the 


228  TOM    AND   JOE. 

old  energy  of  the  cotton  farm  blazed  up  under  the 
impetus  of  a  great  purpose — to  win  for  himself  a  name 
and  his  dear  ones  a  home.  He  was  fortunate  in  the 
friendship  of  Colonel  Elmore,  and  there  was  no  reason 
why  the  handsome  soldier  of  thirty  years  of  age  and  the 
grave  youth  of  twenty  should  not  become  intimate,  being 
congenial  spirits  amid  a  crowd  of  earth's  roughest  sons. 

Day  after  day  and  week  after  week  the  explosion  of 
giant  cartridges  reminded  them  of  the  stormy  days 
then  gone,  and  under  those  batteries  of  peace  the  great 
rocks  of  the  mountain  side  yielded  and  went  thunder- 
ing into  the  gorges  far  below.  Brain  and  muscle  worked 
on,  until  through  dark  tunnels  and  mighty  cuts,  over 
massive  culverts  and  airy  bridges,  the  car  of  latter-day 
progress  went  booming  into  wilds  known  only  to  the 
trapper,  the  hunter,  and  the  miner.  Tom  worked  and 
never  seemed  to  tire.  He  was  in  his  element,  driving 
and  pushing  like  the  progress  of  an  age  depended  upon 
his  individual  exertion,  nor  did  he  neglect  to  save  his 
earnings. 

When  the  icy  arms  of  winter  grasped  all  the  moun- 
tains and  reared  among  them  snowy  palaces  whose 
beauty  lured  adventurous  men  to  death,  he  went  back 
to  Denver,  and  in  his  chief's  office  he  wrought  me- 
chanical problems  of  such  apparent  value,  and  gave 
such  careful  attention  to  all  the  details  of  business,  that 
when  the  spring  campaign  opened  the  authorities  took 
notice  of  him  and  he  was  appointed  First  Assistant  to 
the  Chief  Engineer,  with  great  authority  in  the  con- 
struction department. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


''GOD  PITY  TIIEM  BOTH  AND  PITY  US'  ALL.'' 

"HOT  far  from  the  pretty  little  mountain  town  of 
J  Quimby,  on  this  new  road,  there  is  a  valley  of  sur- 
passing loveliness,  and  its  beauty  is  not  its  only  merit — 
foritwasits  fertility  that  attracted  our  Tom's  agricultural 
eye.  It  was  a  portion  of  the  Government  grant  to  the 
railroad,  and  to  see  it  was  to  want  it;  so  he  hastened 
to  headquarters  and  put  in  a  bid  for  it.  A  few  days 
later  he  was  as  proud  over  his  "quarter  section"  as 
ever  a  young  father  was  over  his  first-born  son.  He 
walked  up  and  down  the  valley,  stopped  to  admire 
every  clump  of  trees,  dropped  pebbles  into  every  trout- 
hole  along  the  little  brook,  and  climbed  the  hills  on 
either  side  to  become  familiar  with  every  view  of  his 
possessions.  No  lover  ever  went  out  of  his  path  to 
view  his  sweetheart's  home  oftener  than  Tom  held  his 
train,  just  a  few  minutes,  until  he  could  run  to  a 
neighboring  hill  and  look  over  into  his  valley. 

Three  months  later  dear  old  Belhaven  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  strangers,  and  mother  with  the  fair 
sister  Janet  had  come  to  dwell  in  the  cosiest  of  cot- 
tages, which  Tom  had  built  among  the  hemlocks  and 
box-alders  where  the  little  trout-stream  broke  out  from 
the  hills.     Here  they  lived  in  peace,  and  the  old  home 

(229) 


230  TOM   AND   JOE. 

became  a  tender  dream  such  as  brings  back  our  child- 
hood to  mellow  old  age.  Here  on  the  afternoons  of 
Saturdays  Tom  would  come  home  from  his  work  in 
front  and  rest  from  his  labors.  On  the  Sabbath  they 
would  climb  the  hill  to  where  the  village  chapel  at- 
tracted those  devoutly  inclined,  and  within  its  sacred 
walls  they  almost  forgot  that  the  old  hill-country 
church  of  Feliciana  was  waiting  in  vain  for  their 
coming.  All  during  that  glorious  summer  and  autumn 
life  seemed  like  a  foretaste  of  something  happier  than 
this  world  can  offer.  Sometimes  Colonel  Elmore  would 
stop  his  train  at  Quimby  and  walk  down  to  the  cot- 
tage with  Tom  to  enjoy  a  social  tea  with  the  family, 
and  here  it  was  that  the  fair,  blushing  Janet  poured 
the  hot  tea  so  daintily  that  it  warmed  his  bachelor 
heart.  Tom  used  to  wonder  why  the  brave  Colonel 
took  such  pleasure  in  stopping  at  their  little  home  so 
often.  He  thought  that  it  was  the  wonderful  biscuit 
that  his  mother  used  to  make,  and  was  confirmed  in 
that  belief  when  he  saw  his  friend  put  away  a  half 
dozen  of  them  at  a  sitting. 

"Good  heavens!"  thought  Tom,  "if  we  only  had 
some  of  those  delicious  old  Louisiana  yams,  and 
mother  would  make  such  a  potato  pone  as  she  used 
to  cook  for  father,  the  Colonel  would  want  to  board 
with  us.  No  wonder  he  eats  so,  after  a  week  of  such 
fare  as  we  have  in  front." 

Tom  loved  to  see  his  friend  cat,  and  when  after 
each  cake  he  laughed  over  some  funny  story  he  was 
sorry  there  was  a  limit  to  the  man's  appetite.     The 


231 

days  fled  swiftly,  and  our  young  man  was  happy  as 
youth,  hope,  health  and  employment  can  insure;  but 
let  us  not  suppose  for  a  moment  that  he  had  forgotten 
his  little  Princess.  Ah,  no!  That  beautiful  valley 
was  selected,  and  the  pretty  cottage  built,  with  a  hope 
that  one  day  Madge  would  look  with  the  approval  of 
loving  eyes  upon  his  work,  and  brighten  with  her 
presence  a  home  that  would  soften  his  sorrow  for  the 
lost  Belhaven.     Poor  foolish,  faithful  Tom  1 

And  what  of  the  pretty  Madge  during  those  years  ? 
She  went  to  school  during  nine  months  of  the  year, 
and  the  other  three  months  were  to  her  so  many  sea- 
sons of  triumph.  She  had  finally  gone  off  for  a  term 
to  a  finishing  school  in  Virginia,  and  was  now  pre- 
paring to  be  turned  loose  upon  the  world.  Happy 
world,  so  soon  to  be  at  the  feet  of  such  loveliness! 

One  July  day  when  the  little  town  of  Quimby 
never  looked  so  fair  there  came  a  letter  for  Tom,  in  a 
square  womanly  envelope,  and  directed  in  the  tiniest 
of  feminine  characters.  He  saw  it  and  blushed  lest 
the  postmaster  should  notice  his  confusion.  Had  there 
been  a  postmistress  the  secret  would  have  been  guessed 
in  a  moment,  but  the  obtuse  person  in  charge  never 
saw  anything  unusual,  and  only  remarked: 

"How  careless  these  young  men  are!  Here*s  that 
chap  gone  off  without  his  change,  and  fifty  cents  is 
added  to  my  salary." 

What  did  Tom  care  for  fifty  cents  ?  He  had  some- 
thing that  the  President  could  not  buy,  and  he  felt 
rich.     He  walked  away  down  the  hill ;   or  rather  he 


232  TOM    AND    JOE. 

floated  down,  for  every  step  was  upon  springs,  and  his 
heart  was  so  liglit  it  almost  Lore  him  up.  If  he 
touched  anything  so  material  as  the  earth  he  was 
not  then  aware  of  it.  Sitting  down  in  the  plea- 
sant shade  upon  a  great  table-rock  that  jutted  out 
from  the  hillside,  he  drew  the  precious  missive  from 
his  pocket,  and  for  several  blissful  minutes  studied 
the  pretty  little  characters  that  made  up  the  address. 
Who  ever  put  such  a  dear  little  curved  tail  to  a  "T" 
save  Madge?  and  the  roundest  little  "o"  that  ever 
ravished  a  lover's  eye.  Did  anj^body  ever  see  such  a 
perfect  "  m  "  since  the  days  of  Cadmus  ?  Never !  The 
capital  "M"  was  a  poem,  while  those  exquisite  little 
letters  "a,  b,  r,  y"  were  such  things  as  fairies  dream  of 
in  the  time  of  apple  blossoms.  The  "Esq"  which 
rounded  the  address  into  perfect  symmetry  was  the 
only.real  abbreviation  of  the  title'  that  ever  was  writ- 
ten. All  the  balance  were  shams.  Of  course  the 
names  of  the  town  and  territory  were  a  symphony  in 
black,  and  Tom  cannot  look  upon  them  to  this  day 
without  a  quiver  about  the  heart.  Sitting  there  in  a 
perfect  delirium  of  bliss,  what  did  he  care  for  tlie  death 
struggle  of  nations  across  the  seas  ?  Did  the  question 
of  "tariff"  bother  him,  then?  No;  he  even  forgot  the 
"negro  problem"  of  his  own  loved  South.  He  was 
foolishly  happy  without  knowing  or  inquiring  why. 

When  he  had  studied  the  address  for  a  length  of 
time  that  denoted  a  sad  lack  of  learning,  or  unac- 
countable absent-mindedness,  he  kissed  the  letter  and 
felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  knife.     He  would  not  tear  a 


"god  pity  them  both  and  pity  us  all."       233 

thing  so  precious,  lest  a  portion  of  it  be  lost  or  dis- 
figured, so  opening  the  smallest  blade  of  the  knife  he 
carefully  cut  one  end  of  the  envelope,  and  his  heart 
was  almost  still  as  he  drew  forth  a  dainty,  perfumed 
paper.  There  came  again  the  old-time  Sunday  morn- 
ing odor  of  violets  as  he  opened  the  letter  and  looked 
with  trembling  to  its  contents.  Did  it  commence 
"Dear  Tom,"  or  any  of  the  old  familiar  terms  of  long 
ago  ?     Ah,  no !     What  he  read  was  this : 

"Miss  Madge  Carter's  compliments  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Mabry  " 

Then  she  invited  him  to  be  present  at  the  closing 
concert  of  her  school  on  the  last  evening  of  July. 
That  was  all.  There  was  no  pretty  little  postscript, 
such  as  loving  woman  always  adds  to  her  letter; 
nothing  upon  which  to  hang  a  hope,  and  the  day 
became  suddenly  dark,  nor  did  the  valley  seem  quite 
so  fair.  The  lines  grew  hard  about  Tom's  mouth,  and 
the  buoyancy  of  a  few  minutes  ago  was  all  gone.  It 
w^as  as  when  a  northeast  storm  suddenly  obscures  a 
spring  day,  and  the  birds  cease  singing  while  the  sun 
is  in  hiding.  You  think  your  fate  is  cruel,  Tom,  but 
the  day  is  coming  when  this  little  touch  of  winter 
will  be  forgotten  amid  the  wild  desolation  of  a  temp- 
est that  shall  overwhelm  you.     But  the  storm  will  pass. 

The  first  shock  of  disappointment  over,  'there  came 
a  revulsion  of  feeling.  The  intense  love  was  hidden, 
not  drowned,  by  the  angry  tide  that  swept  up  in  his 
heart,  and  Tom  in  his  anger  became  unjust. 


234  TOxM    AND    JOE. 

"She  is  cruel  and  heartless!  Her  compliments,  in- 
deed— when  I  would  give  ni}^  right  arm  for  one  kind 
word,  and  sell  my  soul  for  her  smile.  Compliments! 
I  won't  have  them.  She  has  no  doubt  sent  such  stuff 
as  that  to  a  dozen  of  the  boys  in  Feliciana,  and  they 
are  crowing  over  it  like  a  parcel  of  bantams." 

Then  stuffing  the  letter  into  his  pocket  the  wrathful 
young  man  plunged  down  the  hill  and  into  the  house 
with  a  bang,  not  stopping  to  kiss  his  mother  or  Janet^ 
but  rushed  into  his  room,  and,  drawing  out  his  desk, 
settled  himself  to  write. 

"Gracious!"  exclaimed  his  sister.  "What  ails  our 
Tom  this  evening?     He's  in  a  terrible  tantrum." 

"Something  has  troubled  the  dear  boy,  and  I  must 
see  what  it  is,"  replied  her  mother,  and  going  to  his 
door  the  good  woman  knocked  and  entered  into  the 
I)resence  of  her  son. 

"Why,  Tom,  my  dear  boy,  something  has  happened 
to  distress  you.     Are  you  well?" 

"Yes,  mother,  I  am  well,  but  something  has  hap- 
pened to  distress  me.  Read  that,  will  you?'*  and  he 
handed  her  the  invitation,  all  the  while  writing  away 
like  his  life  depended  upon  it. 

"  I  do  not  see  anything  to  trouble  one  about  this," 
said  his  mother.  "It  is  a  very  pretty  and  polite  invi- 
tation from  Madge  for  you  to  attend  the  closing  con- 
cert of  her  school.  You  ought  to  go  if  you  can,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  you  and  she  will  settle  your  little  difl'er-  , 
ences.  You  are  a  pair  of  foolish  children  anyhow — 
loving  each  other  and  yet  too  proud  to  yieM  a  point. 


"god  pity  tpiem  both  and  pity  us  all."       235 

you'd  feel  precious  badly  cut  up  if  she  had  forgotten 
to  invite  you." 

"Well,  mother,  I've  answered  that  important  mis- 
sive, and  you  may  read  what  I've  said.     Here  it  is." 

The  dear  woman  read  Tom's  answer  and  hardly 
knew  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  but  upon  a  moment's 
reflection  she  laughed.  This  is  what  the  wrathful 
young  man  had  written : 

"Mr.  Thomas  Mabry's  compliments  to  Miss  Madge 
Carter,  and  he  begs  to  assure  her  that  it  will  be  utterly 
impossible  for  him  to  attend  the  concert  spoken  of  in 
her  kind  invitation.  He  feels  sure  that  he  will  not  be 
missed  from  the  throng  who  will  crowd  to  admire  the 
fair  graduate." 

"You  don't  know  how  heartless  that  will  seem  to 
your  little  sweetheart,  my  dear  boy,  and  if  you  will 
wait  until  morning  you  will  not  send  it,"  continued 
his  mother;  but  Tom  was  sulky,  and  her  prophecy 
was  only  partially  true. 

Soothed  by  a  cup  of  Mrs.  Mabry's  excellent  tea,  and 
satisfied  with  a  plateful  of  her  famous  biscuit,  the 
young  man  was  no  longer  hungry,  and  by  bed-time 
he  was  at  peace  with  all  the  world.  The  next  morn- 
ing when  the  first  rays  of  sunshine  came  stream- 
ing into  the  valley  from  beyond  the  hills  of  Quimby, 
our  Tom  plunged  wdth  a  whoop  into  the  trout-stream 
and  paused  amid  the  glories  of  an  ante-breakfast 
bath  to  note  the  mocking  echoes  of  every  hillside.  A 
night  of  perfect  rest,  a  plunge  in  delicious  waters,  and 


236  TOM    AND    JOE. 

a  good  breakfast,  ^vill  calm  the  angriest  of  angry  pas- 
sions; hence  our  hero  was  ready  to  forgive  his  little 
Princess,  and  bless  her  for  recollecting  him  at  all.  He 
added  a  postscript  to  his  letter  of  the  night  before,  and 
this  was  what  he  said: 

''Madge,  dear,  wdien  I  wrote  the  above  I  was  a  brute, 
but  now  I  am  ^^our  own  loving  Tom,  as  of  old.  Last 
night  I  dreamed  that  you  were  the  same  delightful 
little  Madge  who  played  the  game  of  mumble-the-peg 
with  me  so  long  ago  under  that  dear  old  beech  tree 
which  you  and  I  can  never  forget.  Your  note  was 
such  a  disappointment  to  me,  although  I  have  kissed 
it  a  hundred  times.  If  you  would  really  be  glad  to 
see  me,  Marlge,  darling — and  I  am  sure  of  it — answer 
this  and  I  will  come  to  you.  Oh,  Madge!  Madge!  I 
would  give  the  world  if  we  could  be  to  each  other  as 
of  old.  Waiting  for  your  answer  and  yearing  t*o  see 
you  once  again,  I  shall  try  to  be  patient  until  it  comes." 

Then  posting  it  he  went  about  his  duties  with  a 
hopeful  heart.  Speed,  little  letter!  Be  j^ou  never  so 
careful,  mail  carrier!  for  loving  hearts  are  waiting  to 
break  should  you  fail  in  your  duty. 

Out  at  his  post  working  like  a  hero  all  those  July 
days,  and  dreaming  as  he  carved  the  mighty  hills, 
Tom  saw  but  few  of  the  morning  papers,  and  if  he 
read  the  account  of  a  train  wreck  at  Vattel's  creek,  in 
Ohio,  he  did  not  know  that  his  fateful  letter  was 
burned  with  the  mail,  and  that  on  the  concert  night 
amid  the  Virginia  hills  sweet  Madge's  voice  Quivered 


"god  pity  them  both  and  pity  us  all."       237 

as  she  sang  her  farewell  song,  for  looking  over  the  vast 
audience  she  missed  the  one  familiar  face  that  was 
dearer  to  her  than  all  the  world  besides. 

Weeks  grew  into  months,  and  the  poor  fellow  haunted 
the  post-office  until  the  unsentimental  person  in  charge 
noted  the  disappointed  look  and  spoke  a  tender  nega- 
tive to  the  vain  inquiry  for  a  letter.  This  fond  hope 
died  away,  and  as  the  burden  of  his  great  sorrow 
became  heavier  than  he  could  bear  he  cast  it  upon 
Him  who  promised  to  the  finally  faithful  a  crown  in 
exchange  for  the  cross.  Then  his  heart  grew  lighter, 
and  abundant  peace  made  the  w^orld  seem  fair  once 
more.  If  possible  he  was  tenderer  with  mother  and 
Janet;  then  came  a  day  w^hen  the  sweet  sister  placed 
her  fair  hand  in  that  of  the  gallant  Chief  Engineer 
and  went  away  to  a  city  home. 

Did  Madge  doubt  the  faith  of  her  boy  lover?  Not 
without  assistance,  and  many  years  passed  ere  Tom 
learned  that  one  whom  he  trusted  and  loved  had 
poisoned  her  mind,  although  her  gentle  heart  could 
never  be  turned  away  from  him.  Had  she  gotten  the 
lost  letter  perhaps  this  story  w^ould  never  be  written; 
but  the  letter  never  reached  its  destination,  and  not 
until  the  angels  roll  the  stone  away  shall  we  know 
w^iat  "might  have  been." 

Another  winter  threw  its  icy  fetters  about  the  west- 
ern mountains,  to  be  broken  only  when  the  w^inds 
came  up  from  the  South  and  called  the  violets  from 
out  the  snow.     The  tender  beauty  of  another  spring 


238  TOM   AND    JOE. 

time  gladdened  every  heart,  and  then   the   summer 
came  to  clotJie  the  hills  with  green  and  azure. 

One  year  has  passed  since  Tom  wrote  liis  last  letter 
to  Madge.  We  see  him  stronger,  sterner  and  manlier 
tlian  of  yore,  yet  with  the  same  kindly  word  for  his 
friends,  and  a  stronger  purpose  to  win  his  way  to  fame 
and  fortune.  His  mail  is  a  large  hudget  now,  for  he 
is  a  man  of  much  business;  but  nothing  was  ever  read 
with  the  interest  bestowed  upon  the  little  missive  of 
one  year  ago.  It  was  filed  away  with  the  deed  to  his 
farm.  Tom  had  a  heavy  mail  this  afternoon,  and  as  he 
walked  home  he  stopped  again  to  rest  upon  the  table- 
rock  and  overlook  his  letters.  There  was  one  from 
the  president  of  the  road  commending  him  for  a  mas- 
terly piece  of  tunneling;  and  one  from  a  poor  widow, 
whose  son  had  broken  a  limb  while  working  for  the 
company,  thanking  him  for  twenty  dollars  he  had 
sent  her  in  time  of  distress.  There  were  letters  of 
inquiry  and  letters  of  complaint,  all  of  v>diich  were 
duly  considered;  and  then  as  he  sat  in  the  cool  shade 
he  turned  listlessly  to  his  newspapers.  He  glanced  at 
the  telegrams,  mining  news  and  railway  notes,  then 
0[)ening  a  forlorn -looking  little  package  he  beheld  a 
copy  of  the  old  familiar  paper  published  in  his  boy- 
hood home.  Some  officious  friend  had  sent  it.  Glan- 
cing with  some  interest  at  the  column  of  local  news  he 
suddenly  turns  faint,  and  as  the  blood  leaves  his  face 
he  clasps  his  hands  upon  his  breast  to  stop  the  spasm 
of  pain  that  pressed  about  his  heart. 


"god  pity  them  both  and  pity  us  all."       239 

Was  some  dear  one  dead  and  this  the  funeral  mes- 
sage ?  Yes,  the  little  Princess  of  his  boyhood,  and 
the  star  of  his  young  manhood,  was  dead;  forever 
dead  to  him  ! 

This  was  what  he  read : 

"Makkied,  at  the  residence  of  the  bride's  father,  on 
Thursday  morning,  July  2d,  Miss  IMadge  Carter  to 
John  Boswell,  Esq.,  of  New  Orleans.  The  happy  cou- 
ple left  on  the  10  o'clock  train  for  New  York,  where 
they  will  embark  for  Europe  and  remain  until  the  end 
of  the  year." 

The  sinking  sun  ere  it  passed  behind  the  western 

hills  peeped  under  the  trees  and  saw  a  man  lying  like 

one  dead   upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  table-rock. 

Two  hours  later,  when  the  tender  stars  looked  down  in 

pity,  they  shone  upon  the  haggard  face  of  that  man 

staggering    along   down    the   path;    and   the    angels 

heard  his  cry  as  he  fell  into  the  mother's  faithful  arms : 

"  Oh,  mother!  I  am  most  miserable!" 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

Madge  was  out  upon  the  ocean  ere  Tom  came  back 
to  life  and  loved  ones  out  of  the  deep  spell  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  and  when  he  went  back  to  his  post  with 
a  tinge  of  frost  about  his  once  dark  hair,  she  was 
wandering  amid  the  crumbling  glories  of  Rome,  and 
trying  in  vain  to  forget  the  boy  lover  who  had  gone 
away  into  the  West  and  out  of  her  life.  Why  she  married 
we  cannot  tell.  The  whims  of  a  woman  are  past  find- 
ing out,  but  her  heart  is  always  right.     Here  is  one  of 


240  TOM   AND   JOE. 

those  partings  so  common  in  real  life,  and,  except  in 
dreams,  here  must  Tom  and  Madge  bid  each  other  an 
eternal  farewelL 

It  is  very  common  in  writing  for  the  novelist  to 
bring  together  again  those  loving  souls  so  sadly  parted, 
but  this  is  not  a  novel.  All  the  way  it  has  been  a 
history  of  those  who  lived  and  loved.  The  solemn 
impress  of  truth  is  upon  every  page.  The  world  is 
better  because  some  of  the  characters  of  this  story  lived. 
It  would  be  easy  to  kill  off  John  Boswell,  but  we  shall 
let  him  live  and  take  his  chances.  We  have  further 
use  for  Tom,  for  he  has  just  now  begun  to  live,  and  we 
think  we  see  where  the  cloud  will  lift  from  his  soul. 
The  poor  fellow  shall  have  a  living  chance  for  happi- 
ness after  all  his  sorrows.  He  is  a  soul  that  can  suffer 
and  be  strong.  If  he  felt  the  pang  of  disappointment 
in  his  soul,  he  bent  to  his  work  for  solace  and  sought 
forgetfulness  amid  his  books.  One  day  he  came  across 
a  tiny  volume,  the  gift  of  a  dear,  dead  friend,  and  read 
there  a  pencilled  passage  which  struck  his  fancy:  - 

*'  The  years  will  bring  new  faces, 

And  as  the  summer  rain 
Falls  soft  on  withered  places 

And  makes  them  green  again, 
So  time  will  soften  sorrow 

And  lives  now  overcast 
Shall  in  some  happier  morrow 

Find  solace  for  the  past." 

"Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "the  poet  is  right,  and  he 
mixes  sense  with  sentiment.  I  must  be  a  man  now, 
and  since  Mad^re  is  dead  to  me  I  will  with  an  earne,st 


241 

life  build  a  monument  over  the  grave  of  my  lost  love. 
May  you  be  happy,  my  lost  little  Princess,  and  may 
you  never  know  how  great  is  the  burden  of  sorrow 
you  placed  upon  your  old-time  lover.  Life  is  too  short 
for  idle  regrets,  and  I  shall  look  for  the  *  happier  mor- 
row '  amid  new  duties  and  new  faces." 

Under  the  skillful  hand  of  the  young  engineer  the 
mighty  heart  of  the  Rockies  was  pierced,  and  another 
great  artery  of  commerce  pulsated  under  the  power  of 
steam.  Sometimes  in  a  quiet  hour  Tom  would  think 
what  his  life  might  have  been,  but  he  would  summon 
his  will  power  and  fling  away  those  dreams,  and  then 
go  about  his  duties  with  gentle  words  for  his  employees 
and  careful  regard  for  every  detail  of  his  work.  He 
was  kind  to  his  men,  and  listened  patiently  to  their 
complaints.  His  tender  solicitude  about  the  condition 
of  those  who  were  from  time  to  time  injured  in  the 
work  of  construction  won  for  him  the  love  of  the  rough 
fellows  all  about  him,  and  the  day  was  rapidly  ap- 
proaching when  that  love  would  form  a  living  wall 
between  him  and  destruction — when  their  cheerful 
shouts  would  nerve  his  arm  to  new  endeavors  and 
renew  hope  in  his  despairing  heart. 

Tom  always  held  to  the  principle  that  those  hard- 
working men  were  not  of  another  clay,  but  were  bro- 
thers, quickly  amenable  to  the  law  of  kindness.  If 
there  was  trouble  about  the  wages  he  always  took  up 
for  his  men,  and  during  the  great  financial  troubles  of 
1873,  when  railroad  building  was  paralyzed  all  over 
the  country,  they  clung  to  him  with  a  ^fidelity,  that 
11 


242  TOM   AND   JOE. 

astonished  the  "officers  of  this  great  corporation  and 
stimulated  them  to  unlock  their  private  coffers  to  feed 
the  faithful  fellows.  Thus  passed  two  years  of  labor 
and  progress,  until  in  the  summer  of  1875  Colonel 
Elmore  was  elected  vice-president  of  the  road,  and  our 
young  man  stepped  up  into  a  position  the  duties  of 
which  had  been  measurably  upon  his  shoulders  for  a 
long  while, 

One  day  soon  after  this,  Tom  was  in  that  marvelous 
marvel,  called  Leadville,  and  as  he  reached  the  point 
where  Six-shooter  Avenue  intersects  Whiskey  Straight, 
he  heard  a  noise  of  shouting  and  wild  laughing.  It  was 
very  much  such  a  hurrah  as  arouses  the  average  vil- 
lage when  an  unfortunate  dog  moves  out  into  the  sub- 
urbs with  a  tin  can  addition  to  its  tail.  A  great  crowd 
of  loafers  and  gamblers  were  yelling  and  tossing  their 
hats  in  the  air,  while  all  interest  seemed  to  be  centered 
upon  some  object  which  our  young  engineer  could  not 
see.  Suddenly  from  out  the  crowd  there  rushed  in 
frantic  haste  a  fat  little  man,  bareheaded  and  scared. 
His  coat  was  a  fashionable  wreck,  being  torn  from  the 
tail  nearly  to  the  neck,  and  each  division  of  the  tail 
was  standing  out  on  its  own  responsibility  as  he  ran, 
or  rather  waddled  up  the  street.  The  poor  fellow  was 
running  his  best  in  an  aimless  sort  of  a  way,  and  after 
him,  like  grim  death,  came  a  red-faced  ruffian  who  oc- 
casionally fired  a  shot  over  the  head  of  the  fugitive  to 
stir  him  up  to  greater  speed,  yet  all  the  time  yelling 
for  the  poor  wretch  to  stop.  As  the  miserable  man 
reached  the  crossing  Tom  recognized  him,  and  calling 


"GOD  PITY  THEM  BOTH  AND  PITY  US  ALL."         243 

him  to  come  over  to  his  side  of  the  street,  assured  him 
of  protection.  Surprise  almost  conquered  fear  as  the 
man  caught  sight  of  our  Tom,  and  shouting  at  the  top 
of  his  voice — 

"  Help,  Tom  Mabry,  help  !  That  devil  will  kill  me ! " 
he  started  across  the  avenue,  but  his  sorrows  were  not 
yet  at  an  end.  His  pursuer  was  now  very  close  and  the 
sharp  report  of  another  pistol  shot  only  stirred  him  up 
for  greater  speed,  when  an  unlucky  rock  spun  away 
from  under  his  foot^  rolling  him  into  the  dirt,  where  he 
surrendered. 

Tom  sprang  quickly  to  his  assistance,  and  was  about 
to  raise  the  unfortunate  man,  when  the  harsh  voice  of 
the  ruffian  called  out: 

"  None  of  that,  now !  Let  him  alone — he's  my  meat ! " 
but  paying  no  heed  to  this  warning,  he  stooped  to 
help  the  fallen  man  to  his  feet.  As  he  looked  up  a 
pistol,  propelled  by  a  monstrous  oath,  was  thrust  against 
his  face,  splitting  the  skin  upon  the  cheek  and  nearly 
hurling  him  to  the  earth.  Quick  as  thought  he  pushed 
the  weapon  aside,  and  springing  up  planted  a  powerful 
blow  square  in  the  fellow's  face.  It  was  a  good  blow, 
well  delivered,  and  under  it  the  ruffian  went  down. 
Before  he  could  recover  Tom  was  upon  him  and  had 
him  disarmed,  but  the  ruffian  had  friends  near,  who 
rushed  to  the  rescue,  and  to  face  a  crowd  of  angry  men 
with  an  empty  pistol  is  a  very  delicate  matter.  He 
stood  holding  them  at  bay  with  the  presented  weapon, 
but  things  looked  squally  for  our  hero.  With  terrible 
oaths  the  angry  mob  rushed  upon  him,  but  gave  back 


244  TOM   AND   JOE. 

as  more  than  one  felt  the  weight  of  a  pistol  barrel  upon 
his  head.  Tom  was  wondering  how  it  would  all  end, 
and  was  wishing  himself  well  back  in  his  car,  when  a 
man  sprang  out  from  the  crowd  of  spectators  now  gath- 
ered around  and  a  cheerful  voice  called — 

"Stand  up  to  them,  Mr.  Mabry !  Back,  you  cow- 
ardly devils,  and  let's  have  fair  play !  Boys,  it's  our 
old  boss,  Tom  Mabry,  and  nobody  shall  hurt  him 
while  I'm  here !" 

Instantly  a  great  shout  went  up  from  the  crowd  on 
the  sidewalk,  and  a  dozen  stout  fellows  rushed  to  the 
rescue,  with  such  a  show  of  determination  that  the 
gamblers  felt  their  courage  ebb  away.  Those  men  who 
came  so  timely  were  of  the  little  army  who  had  worked 
under  Tom's  orders  and  experienced  his  kindness  on 
all  occasions. 

"I  am  more  than  proud  to  see  you,  boys,"  said  Tom, 
"and  I  thank  you  for  saving  my  life  from  that  mob. 
You  all  know  me,  and  should  any  one  of  you  ever 
need  help  you  always  know  where  to  find  your  old- 
time  boss.  I  want  you  all  to  come  around  to  Bucka- 
lew's  to-day  and  you  shall  eat  with  me  the  best  dinner 
this  town  affords." 

"Hurrah  for  Tom  Mabry!"  shouted  the  happy  fel- 
lows, and  the  crowd  echoed  the  sentiment  until  for  a 
few  minutes  our  young  engineer  was  the  most  popular 
man  in  Leadville.  Then  turning  to  the  poor  trembling 
fellow  who  was  seated  on  a  box,  the  living  image  of 
misery  and  discomfort,  he  reached  out  his  hand  and 


"god  pity  them  both  and  pity  us  all."      245 

said :  "  Come,  get  up,  John  Barton,  and  tell  me  why  you 
are  here,  and  what  all  this  trouble  is  about." 

They  walked  away  to  John's  lodgings,  where,  after 
he  had  exchanged  his  torn  coat  and  made  himself  pre- 
sentable, they  sat  down  and  he  told  his  version  of  the 
affair.  John  Barton  had  never  married,  but  upon  the 
remnant  of  his  wealth  had  contrived  to  live  so  well  that 
during  the  ten  years  since  we  saw  him  a  dapper  young 
officer  at  Richmond,  he  had  added  vastly  to  his  flesh 
and  parted  with  the  most  of  his  hair. 

"Well  you  see,  Tom,"  he  said, "these  damned  fellows 
don't  know  a  gentleman  when  they  meet  one.  I  had 
gone  into  a  saloon  to  get  me  a  cocktail  when  I  found  a 
great  crowd  of  motley  fellows  hurrahing  about  the  bar, 
and  I  would  have  retreated,  but  as  I  attempted  to  back 
out  they  stopped  me  and  swore  I  had  to  drink  with 
them.  They  were  celebrating  the  good  luck  of  a  miner 
who  had  just  'struck  it  rich*  in  the  mines,  as  they  say. 
I  told  them  that  I  generally  selected  my  company  when 
I  took  a  drink,  and  this  seemed  to  make  them  mad. 
Then  they  took  hold  of  me  and  tried  to  make  me  drink, 
which  of  course  I  resisted.  In  the  struggle  they 
knocked  off  my  hat,  tore  my  coat  most  shamefully, 
and,  by  heavens,  sir !  they  were  about  to  drench  me  as 
you  would  a  colicky  horse,  when  I  tore  away  from  them 
and  ran  out  the  door.  That  red-faced  devil — may  old 
Nick  burn  him  a  thousand  years ! — drew  his  six-shooter 
and  commenced  firing  at  me,  and  if  I  had'nt  run  unon 
a  friend  there's  no  telling  what  would  have  happened. 


246  TOM   AND   JOE. 

I  expect  I  should  have  been  compelled  to  stop  and  take 
the  life  of  the  scoundrel.  Oh,  tliis  is  a  sweet-scented 
town!  A  gentleman  feels  as  lonesome  here  as  a  fiddler 
w^ould  in  heaven !" 

Tom  could  not  help  from  smiling  at  this  recital,  but 
was  too  polite  to  laugh,  as  his  feelings  suggested,  and 
he  commiserated  with  the  unfortunate  fellow  in  the 
best  style  he  could  command.  He  insisted  that  iji  this 
rough  country  it  was  always  best  to  humor  the  whims 
of  the  wild  fellows  who  infest  it,  when  you  can  do  so 
consistently.  They  often  meant  no  harm,  but  hen 
they  got  hold  of  a  *' tenderfoot"  they  generally  had 
some  fun. 

"I  came  up  here,"  resumed  Barton,  "to  invest  in 
mining  property,  but  I  think  this  kind  of  life  will  not 
suit  me.  Free  niggers  and  cotton  have  nearly  bank- 
rupted me,  but  I  would  rather  endure  all  the  vexations 
of  farm  life  in  Louisiana  than  accumulate  wealth  in 
this  ante-chamber  of  hell.  A  man  is  not  safe  here  a 
minute,  for  if  he  don't  get  a  bullet  that  is  aimed  at 
him  he  will  pick  up  one  intended  for  another  person. 
I  am  not  yearning  for  that  kind  of  death.  I  used  to 
be  a  desperate  fellow  in  the  old  days  when  there  was 
some  credit  in  getting  shot,  but  I  am  wdser  now.  I 
have  found  out  that  for  all  the  fuss  they  make  people 
have  very  little  use  for  a  dead  man.  It  would  be 
awfully  inconvenient  to  die  just  now." 

'•  I  think,"  replied  Tom,  "  that  you  would  not  find 
this  life  suited  to  one  of  your  temperament,  and  I  would 
advice  you  to  return  at  once  to  Louisiana.     We  must 


"god  pity  them  both  and  pity  us  all. 


247 


adapt  ourselves  to  the  people  and  circumstances  sur- 
rounding us  if  we  would  succeed." 

A  few  hours  later  Tom  bade  his  old-time  enemy 
good-bye  at  the  depot,  and  as  the  St.  Louis  express 
thundered  away  it  carried  John  Barton  out  of  sight  and 
away  from  our  story. 

The  hairs  of  his  head  are  easy  to  number  now,  and 
a  pair  of  scales  is  his  abhorrence. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  TOM'S  LAST  BIVER  JOUBNEY:' 

PJ\  ANY  of  our  readers  doubtless  think  it  is  high 
(6)  time  for  us  to  dispose  of  Tom.  The  poor  fellow 
has  met  many  disappointments  thus  far  in  life,  but  the 
fires  have  only  refined  the  pure  gold  of  his  nature.  It 
takes  some  sorrows  and  disasters  to  round  out  the 
character  of  a  young  man.  They  strengthen  and 
develop  his  soul  as  healthful  exercise  hardens  the 
muscles.  Yes,  it  is  time  to  dispose  of  Tom.  We  have 
not  shielded  him,  but  have  exposed  his  foibles  until 
the  world  can  judge  how  well  he  deserved  his  troubles. 
Prosperity  has  followed  his  earnest  labors  and  he  has 
the  unlimited  confidence  of  his  great  corporation.  AVe 
have  something  good  in  store  for  him  yet,  and  then 
we  shall  part.  We  have  endeavored  to  record  faith- 
fully the  lives  of  two  boys,  well  remembered  in  Felici- 
ana. Our  task  is  nearly  done.  Could  we  have  saved 
the  gallant  Joe,  ah!  how  lovingly  would  we  cling  to 
him  until  the  trembling  pen  refused  to  move.  It  is 
very  difficult  for  us  to  become  reconciled  to  some  of 
the  tragedies  of  real  life,  and  no  lapse  of  time  can 
quiet  the  rebellious  heart.  Tom  has  arrived  at  that 
mature  age  and  condition  when  he  no  longer  takes 
pleasure   in  "  dream  life,"  but   peruses   the   financial 

(248) 


^'tom's  last  river  journey."  249 

columns  of  the  morning  papers,  and  discusses  the 
tariff  or  other  political  problems.  He  is  a  man  of 
business  now.  He  wears  shoes  with  broad  soles  and 
fiat  heels,  while  his  feet  revel  in  all  the  '' elbow-room" 
necessary  for  comfort.  His  tastes  have  changed.  It  is 
doubtful  _  if  Aunt  Vinej^'s  potato  pone  would  attract 
him  as  of  old,  and  a  game  of  mumble-the-peg  would 
not  arouse  more  than  a  passing  emotion.  We  are  not 
so  sure  about  the  marbles.  The  swimming  hole  at 
fair  Belhaven  is  only  suggestive  of  muddy  feet  and 
musquitoes.  He  would  laugh  at  the  idea  of  cavalry 
boots  and  variegated  neckties.  The  trouble  wit*h  Tom 
is  that  his  boyhood  is  forever  gone. 

Most  of  the  actors  in  this  story  have  passed  away 
from  us  during  these  fifteen  years,  and  so  it  will  ever 
be  as  long  as  people  live,  and  love,  and  die.  We  know 
where  dear  Joe  and  the  young  Georgian  sleep  under 
the  moaning  pine,  and  memory — oh,  so  tender!  will 
ever  cling  about  that  lonely  grave ;  our  hearts  yearned 
over  sweet  Jennie  as  the  grief-stricken  little  woman 
vanished  in  the  twilight;  we  heard  the  volley  over  the 
grave  of  the  disappointed  and  repentant  Pete  Brownlow; 
everybody  rejoiced  over  the  good  fortune  and  happiness 
of  the  giant  North  Carolinian,  and  saw  the  sunset  jBush 
when  the  noble  old  judge  entered  into  rest.  Goodnight 
has  cared  for  "poor  little  fool  Si  *  Owens,"  and  John 
Barton  has  bidden  the  wild  west  an  eternal  farewell. 
Colonel  DuPree  has  grown  fat,  and  still  talks  "  State 
rights"  between  naps  as  he  sits  on  his  piazza  during 
the  long  summer  afternoon,  while  Major  Carter,  still 


250  TOM   AND   JOE. 

proud  and  stately,  rejoices  in  the  good  things  of  life, 
and  occasionally  occupies  his  pew  in  the  old  hill-coun- 
try church.  The  brave  and  handsome  Captain  Ran- 
some  hung  his  saber  upon  the  wall  and  has  gone  to 
Congress  from  Mississippi.  He  is  a  "  Colonel"  now.  Is 
there  any  one  left?  If  not,  we  must  dispose  of  the 
lonely  Tom.  It  would  be  cruel  to  leave  him  desolate. 
Despite  the  fact  that  he  is  a  business  man,  he  often  sits 
in  the  gathering  twilight,  and  as  his  soul  looks  back 
across  the  distant  years — dreams. 

But  stop !  Did  we  not  in  the  early  days  of  our  story 
catch  a  glimpse  of  a  pretty  little  maiden  with  brown 
ringlets,  who  clapped  her  chubby  hands  when  the 
mighty  steamer  bore  our  hero  and  his  fortunes  down  the 
great  Father  of  Waters?  Certainly  we  did.  She  was 
a  very  wee  maiden  away  back  yonder  in  1853,  but  she 
has  had  ample  time  to  grow  during  twenty  years,  and  no 
doubt  the  pretty  curls  have  changed  into  a  classic  twist 
upon  a  stately  head — so  there  are  yet  two  characters 
to  be  disposed  of,  else  the  record  might  close  just  here. 

Tom  was  well  to  do  now.  He  had  taken  care  of  his 
excellent  salary  paid  him  during  the  past  five  years 
and  had  made  some  successful  mining  ventures.  His 
valley  home  was  perhaps  as  lovely  a  spot  as  could  be 
found  in  beautiful  Colorado,  but  it  lacked  a  mistress 
since  his  mother  had  gone  to  live  with  Janet  in  her 
city  home.  Sometimes  he  wished  for  some  one  to 
help  admire  his  splendid  herd  of  Jerseys.  His  gun 
and  dog  were  boon  companions  often,  but  even  these 
wearied  him.  and  his  guitar  stood  in  one  corner  with  a 


**tom's  last  river  journey."  251 

broken  string.  There  was  nothing  homelike  in  the 
hotel  where  he  took  his  meals,  and  the  accumulation 
of  partly- worn  garments  in  his  wardrobe  was  becom- 
ing a  burden.  A  woman  in  the  household  would  have 
settled  all  those  troubles,  and  many  a  poor  tramp  would 
have  gone  away  clothed  and  impudent.  In  short,  Tom 
was  now  twenty-six  years  of  age  and  began  to  realize 
that  it  was  not  good,  nor  pleasant,  for  man  to  be  too 
much  alone.  The  little  god  was  about  to  make  a  tar- 
get of  our  hero  once  more,  and  was  already  whetting 
his  arrows  for  the  conflict. 

The  pretty  town  of  Quimby  had  been  growing,  and 
the  tourist  from  the  East  or  the  far  South  often  stopped 
there  to  enjoy  the  delightful  summers.  In  the  spring 
of  1876  Tom  resigned  his  position  with  the  railroad  to 
accept  the  office  of  president  in  a  new  national  bank 
just  organized  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  growing  town, 
and  there  he  found  a  field  for  the  display  of  all  his 
executive  ability.  Had  he  been  in  a  large  city  perhaps 
he  would  have  expanded  to  meet  the  greater  require- 
ments of  such  a  place,  but  he  had  been  raised  a  coun- 
try lad  and  his  ideas  were  scarcely  metropolitan. 

As  he  went  home  from  the  bank  one  afternoon  in 
August  there  were  two  ladies  sitting  upon  the  famous 
table-rock.  One  of  these  ladies  was  a  fine  looking, 
matronly  woman  of  fifty,  and  the  other,  who  seemed 
to  be  her  daughter,  was  very  fair,  with  just  such  a  sus- 
picion 'of  roses  in  her  cheek  as  indicated  good  health. 
Tom  lifted  his  hat  as  he  passed,  and  so  far  forgot  his 
good  manners  as  to  look  back  a  time  or  two  ere  he 


252  TOM   AND   JOE. 

readied  the  valley.  That  night  he  mended  the  broken 
string  of  his  guitar,  and  may  be  he  sang  an  old  love 
song,  but  only  Queen  Dido,  the  pointer,  and  his  mild- 
eyed  Jerseys  heard  the  music.  When  he  went  to  sleep 
he  dreamed  such  dreams  as  only  visit  the  pillow  of  a 
pure-hearted,  vigorous  young  man 

A  few  days  later  the  two  ladies  visited  the  bank 
upon  some  monetary  matter — for  even  the  women, 
dear  creatures,  are  compelled  to  have  money  in  this 
sordid  world — and  from  the  little  item  of  business  it 
was  very  easy  for  Tom  to  lead  them  into  a  spritely 
conversation,  which  lasted  perhaps  twenty  minutes. 
The  bank  clerks  wondered  what  made  their  superior 
so  loath  to  let  the  ladies  depart,  and  when  they  did 
leave  the  teller  whispered  to  the  book-keeper — 

"  That's  a  dog-gone  pretty  girl  I" 

Of  course  the  young  man  meant  no  disrespect  by 
this  irreverent  remark,  but  all  boys  who  do  not  actually 
swear  roll  this  expressive  word  under  their  tongues  as 
a  sweet  morsel  and  fire  it  off  on  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion. We  doubt  if  there  is  a  boy  in  America  who  has 
not  at  some  time  or  other  used  this  expression  in  some 
of  its  moods,  or  tenses,  and  felt  relieved.  It  is  a  sort 
of  compromise  when  we  are  angry  and  our  aroused 
consciences  cry  out  against  profanity;  but  oftener  it 
it  merely  comes  as  an  idle  word  which  we  are  told  will 
be  reckoned  for  on  some  dismal  day  in  the  hereafter. 

Ere  long  the  gossips  of  Quimby  declared  that  the 
young  bank  president  was  smitten  with  the  fair  tour- 
ist, Miss  Edith  Gordon,  and  that  the  young  lady  was 


253 

Tery  gracious.  Certain  it  is  that  the  best  carriage  of 
the  one  livery  stable  in  the  village  was  occupied  every 
bright  afternoon  by  a  gentleman  and  two  ladies,  who 
seemed  to  be  wonderfully  fond  of  the  mountain  scenery, 
and  hardly  a  day  passed  but  the  general  health  of  the 
party  required  that  they  should  drink  of  a  certain 
mineral  spring  a  few  miles  down  the  valley.  It  is  also 
certain  that  on  Sunday  the  two  young  people  used  the 
same  song  book  at  church — books  being  scarce  in 
frontier  churches — and  as  Edith's  rich  soprano  filled 
all  the  air  with  melody,  Tom  almost  forgot  his  bass 
while  listening.  The  faithful  preacher,  whose  salary 
was  an  unknown  quantity,  could  almost  hear  the  music 
of  wedding  bells  as  he  looked  upon  the  charming 
couple. 

Tom  showed  the  ladies  his  pretty  home,  and  listened 
with  complacency  to  their  raptures  over  his  herd  of 
poetic  Jerseys,  or  envied  Queen  Dido  certain  demon- 
strations of  fondness  at  the  hands  of  the  young  lady. 
Then,  one  day  when  the  tourists  started  back  to  their 
Louisiana  home,  he  found  that  business  required  a  trip 
to  St.  Louis  in  the  same  train  that  carried  the  ladies. 
The  truth  of  the  whole  matter  is  that  our  Tom  had 
calmly,  deliberately,  and  "with  sedate  mind,"  as  the 
lawyers  say,  fallen  again  into  his  most  prominent 
youthful  habit — ^and  into  love. 

Love  is  a  fever,  not  like  measles  or  yellow  fever  of 
which  there  is  no  return,  but  dangerous,  inasmuch  as 
no  man  ever  gets  too  old  to  be  attacked.  The  fever  may 
cool  and  the  patient  be  pronounced  entirely  well,  when 


254  TOM    AND    JOE. 

some  unfortunate  exposure,  or  lawn  party,  will  bring  on 
another  attack  until  the  poor  fellow  becomes  real  silly. 

"When  Tom  bade  Edith  good-bye  at  the  steamer,  he 
suddenly  felt  a  great  yearning  for  his  old  Southland 
home,  and  declared  that  he  would  spend  his  next 
Christmas  in  Louisiana.  He  begged  that  he  might 
visit  the  fair  girl  at  her  home,  and  then  he  returned  to 
Quimby  to  find  that  never  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  and  most  truthful  inhabitant,  had  the  autumn 
months  taken  so  long  to  pass  by.  Every  day  seemed 
about  twenty-four  hours  long,  and,  but  for  the  fact 
that  he  had  an  easy  conscience,  with  good  digestion, 
the  nights  would  have  tallied  another  score.  But  the 
weeks  and  months  will  hurry  by,  sometimes  with  a 
speed  that  makes  us  dizzy,  and  when,  at  the  close  of 
another  year,  we  try  to  reckon  its  profits  and  losses,  the 
balance  sheet  appalls  us. 

Again  the  winter  came  thundering  down  from  far 
off"  icy  regions,  spreading  over  mountain,  plain  and 
valley,  as  the  Goths  and  Vandals  desolated  the  fair 
Campania  about  the  Roman  city.  Beneath  its  cold 
touch,  flower  and  herb  grew  brown  and  rigid*  the 
trout  brook  hushed  its  pretty  lullaby ;  the  tower- 
ing hills  grew  white,  and  the  song  of  birds  was 
heard  no  more.  Tom  stood  upon  the  table-rock  listen- 
ing to  the  migration  notes  of  the  wild  goose,  and  he 
remembered  that  in  two  days  more  it  would  honk  with 
joy  amid  the  rice  and  cane  fields  of  his  own  Louisiana. 

Did  no  ghost  of  the  past  haunt  this  pleasant  faced 
young  man,  as  he  looked  with  impatience  to  his  South- 


255 

ern  visit?  Was  the  memory  of  the  long-ago  scene 
beneath  the  old  beech-tree  at  Belhaven  dead  ?  Who 
talks  of  undying  love  in  this  world  of  broken  vows? 
If  love  lives  forever ;  if  the  divine  essence  must  exist  in 
spite  of  forgotten  vows  and  broken  hearts,  it  teaches  a 
doctrine  of  transmigration  as  it  speeds  from  the  wreck 
of  to-day,  and  fills  to-morrow  with  sunshine. 

Ah,  no !  the  memory  of  that  other  love  was  not  dead 
with  Tom,  but  put  away  under  some  secret  lock,  and 
the  key  cast  into  the  fathomless  depths  of  "Nevermore." 
That  night  a  faded  note,  taken  from  alongside  the  deed 
to  the  home,  was  wrapped  about  a  sweet  girl's  photo- 
graph, and  both  disappeared  forever  from  mortal  vision. 
There  was  a  shade  of  sorrow  about  the  blue  eyes  as  the 
flames  obscured  their  beauty,  but  the  sunny  smile  rose 
up  with  the  curling  smoke  and  filled  the  room  as  burn- 
ing incense  filled  the  holy  place. 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  bank  directory,  Tom  left 
that  institution  in  their  charge,  and  sped  away  to  look 
after  certain  interests  away  down  in  the  low  country, 
where  the  Mississippi  rushes  to  the  sea. 

Two  days  before  Christmas,  the  steamer  Great  Ee- 
publie  on  its  way  to  New  Orleans,  rounded  to  in  the 
early  morning  at  a  plantation  landing  not  many  miles 
below  Vicksburg,  and  as  the  giant  vessel  turned  at  the 
pilots  touch,  her  brazen  mouth-piece  boomed  out  a 
note  of  warning  that  startled  every  sleeping  echo  for 
twenty  miles  around,  and  awoke  many  an  ancient 
darkey  from  happy  dreams  of  "  possum  and  taters." 
There  was  some  little  commotion  at  the  house  and 


256  TOM   AND   JOE. 

quarters,  for  whilst  coast  packets  were  an  every  day 
occurrence,  it  was  not  often  that  they  saw  a  grand  up- 
country  steamer,  except  as  it  swept  proudly  past  on  its 
way  to  the  Crescent  City.  As  usual,  quite  a  lot  of 
negroes  turned  out  to  see  the  steamer  land.  Some 
came  to  make  themselves  useful,  but  the  majority  be- 
cause they  had  no  business  there. 

"Name  o'  Gawd!"  exclaimed  old  Uncle  Tom,  the 
good-natured  major-domo  of  the  carriage-house.  "Jess 
lissen  at  de  Graterpublic  beller!  Holler  like  he  own. 
dis  whole  plantashun  an'  dun  cum  fer  it.  I'm  gwine- 
ter  run  over  to  de  lebby  an'  pick  up  a  quarter  from  sum 
white  man  fo'  sum  dem  new-issue  niggers  gets  in  erhead 
o'  me." 

Then  the  old  man  dropped  the  brush  with  which  he  had 
been  tickling  Lightfoot  and  hurried  away  to  the  landing 

"  What  de  debbil  dat  big  boat  mean  trineter  cave  off 
a  aker  o'  dis  farm  at  one  time?"  queried  young  Bullet, 
as  he  sauntered  leisurely  down  to  the  landing  with  the 
regulation  "one  gallus,"  and  his  old  slouched  hat  stuck 
rakishly  over  his  left  ear.  "Gwineter  buss  dis  lebby 
jilum  open  wid  her  ting-a-ling-ling^  iong-a-long-long ^ 
tchowf  tchoivf  an'  dem  niggers  hollerin  wid  dat  gang- 
plank like  sumbody  drap  hot  ashes  in  da  shoes.  Bet 
a  hundred  dollers  da  got  ter  pay  fer  dat  aker  o'  Ian, 
else  ole  Miss  Gord'n  gwineter  takum  to  der  cote  house 
sho!  Eun  out  dat  line  dare,  you  blac  rascals,  fo'  I  buss 
you  open  wid  dis  stick  o'  cawd  wood!"  This  last 
remark  was  directed  to  the  roustabouts  of  the  boat — at 
a  safe  distance. 


"tom's  last  rivek  journey."  257 

While  the  old  negro  still  clings  to  his  ancient  habit 
of  calling  upon  the  name  of  deity  on  every  trivial  occa- 
sion, the  young  "new-issue-nigger"  is  equally  certain 
to  invoke  the  devil.  The  old  slave  means  no  harm, 
and  in  his  simple  ignorance  clings  to  his  long-formed 
habits,  but  the  young  freedman  appeals  to  his  patron 
in  utter  wantonness.  He  would  not  mend  his  ways 
under  anything  short  of  a  Ku-klux  visitation. 

All  this  hurrah  in  the  early  morning  resulted  in 
landing  one  passenger,  and  our  Tom  giving  his  old 
namesake  the  expected  quarter  with  his  valise  to  carry, 
walked  to  the  house  with  a  degree  of  apparent  uncon- 
cern that  won  for  him  the  respect  of  every  darkey  who 
beheld  him. 

"Man,  ser!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Eunice,  the  cook,  who 
from  her  kitchen  window  could  command  the  walk  to 
the  landing.  "He  holes  heself  up  like  a  shorenuf 
white  man.  I  'low  he's  dat  young  bankerman  what  I 
hyeard  Marse  Bob  a  teasin'  Miss  Edy  about.  I  do 
think  on  my  soul  Marse  Bob  is  de  devilishest  white 
man  I  ever  seed  in  all  my  born  days  1  He  is  that  agry- 
vatin,  an'  there  ain't  no  time  but  what  he's  a  teasin'  an^ 
a  worryin'  Miss  Edy  or  Ole  Miss.  I  lay  Miss  Edy  '11 
hafter  marry  dat  man  jess  so  she  can  go  way  an'  git 
shet  o'  dat  onregenerate  brother  o'  hern.  But,  law! 
Marse  Bob  don't  mean  no  meanness  in  his  debblement, 
fer  he's  jest  as  good  to  his  sister  as  he  kin  be — 'ceppen 
his  mischief  Ef  dat  white  man  is  de  right  kind  o' 
'stockracy  he  kin  marry  Miss  Edy,  if  she'll  let  him,  an' 
ef  he  ain't  he  kaint." 


258  TOM   AND  JOE. 

Tom  was  very  kiudly  received  and  spent  one  bliss- 
ful week  on  the  plantation.  Buggy  rides  along  the 
smooth  river  road  and  under  the  leafless  branches  of 
the  great  trees;  never  to  be  forgotten  strolls  along  the 
levee,  listening  to  the  murmur  of  the  great  river  and 
to  the  music  of  their  own  voices;  songs  and  games  by 
lamplight  in  the  parlor;  stately  dinners  where  Uncle 
Tom  officiated  in  the  blackest  of  coats  and  whitest 
of  aprons ;  cosy  teas  that  make  a  man  forget  he  ever 
had  a  trouble  or  a  sorrow;  sweet  whispered  confidences 
in  the  moonlight  that  was  filling  all  the  Southland  with 
splendor,  and  a  formal  conference  or"  family  meeting" 
to  name  the  day — for  Tom  and  Edith  had  wandered 
into  each  other's  hearts  and  avowed  their  mutual  hap- 
piness— all  rounded  out  the  seven  days'  visit,  and  made 
our  quondam  engineer  feel  that  life  was  worth  living 
a  thousand  years.  He  wanted  to  know  why  the  wed- 
ding could  not  take  place  at  once,  but  when  he  noted 
the  look  of  polite  surprise  upon  the  face  of  his  intended 
mother-in-law  he  offered  no  more  propositions,  but  let 
that  worthy  lady  arrange  matters  to  suit  herself,  while 
he  discussed  with  the  sedate  Bob  the  relative  merits 
of  the  "levee"  and  the  "outlet"  systems  for  the  great 
river. 

Three  weeks  Tras  the  shortest  time  possible  to  arrange 
for  the  marriage,  and  even  that  was  considered  a  con- 
cession to  the  calls  of  business  which  ought  not  to  be 
established  as  a  precedent,  then  Tom  went  away  down 
the  river  to  visit  other  friends,  and  relapsed  into  his 
old  time  habit  of  dreaming. 


\ 

"TOM^S  LAST  RIVER  JOURNEY."  259 

How  long  and  how  short  is  the  time  comprised  in 
the  measure  of  three  weeks !  The  queen  who  offered 
millions  of  money  for  minutes  of  time,  would  have 
bankrupted  the  nation  in  three  weeks,  and  the  man 
who  waits  for  the  hangman  bewails  the  speed  with 
which  they  slip  away.  But  to  the  anxious  lover  wait- 
ing for  the  hour  that  shall  link  his  destiny  with  the 
future  of  one,  who,  putting  her  little  hand  in  his,  shall 
say :  "  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God, 
my  God" — those  weeks  are  all  too  slow,  and  even  the 
hours  devoted  to  dreaming  shall  loiter  by  the  way. 
Yet  the  time  will  pass,  and  we  have  known  a  faithful 
lover  grow  old  with  waiting. 

Ah,  Tom  !  your  happiness  has  been  long  coming, 
but  the  heavens  bend  down  to  kiss  you  now,  and  the 
future  seems  fairer  than  a  summer  day.  The  storms 
are  all  past,  the  earthquake  throes  have  ceased,  and 
there  is  a  feeling  of  warmth  about  the  heart  that  proves 
the  doctrine  of  love's  metempsychosis 
*  *  *  4t  *  «  « 

Again  a  mighty  steamer  is  rushing  up  the  great 
river.  This  time  the  tall  young  man  has  grown  man- 
lier, and  there  are  no  fogs  drifting  around  the  vessel. 
The  lordly  sun  has  gone  done  into  the  west,  but  ere  he 
sank  the  earth  was  crimson  with  glory  and  the  clouds 
were  aflame.  Then  as  the  purple  shadows  came  stream- 
ing across  the  water  and  a  willow-crowned  point  shut 
away  from  view  her  distant  home,  a  fair  girl  looked  up 
into  Tom  Mabry's  face  and  sweet  lips  murmured  • 

"Dear  love,  I  will  go  with  thee,  never  doubting, even 
to  the  end  of  the  earth." 


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RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
250 


